


The Fine Line

by suitesamba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALIVE!Remus, Adventure, Alive!Lily, Alive!Sirius, Alive!Tonks, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, No Voldemort, Romance, alive!James, magical au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 56,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raised by Lily and James Potter in a world without Voldemort, would-be Auror Harry Potter  is more ordinary than extraordinary. When Potions master Severus Snape is drafted to teach a Potions section to his class of Auror trainees, Harry, knowing nothing about Snape at all, and with Lily and James away in South America for the summer, develops an immediate fascination with his new teacher. As his relationship with Severus develops, he learns about Severus’ past with his mother and the Marauders, and finds Severus challenging his core ideas of right and wrong. When an accident fells several Aurors, Harry must decide whether to help Severus with a decidedly illegal potion to help them, or to stick to the side of the law he’s been trained to enforce. Sometimes, the line between right and wrong is thin and grey, but in the end, Harry finds himself exactly where he’s meant to stay – but will it be with Severus, the Aurors or somewhere else entirely?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honey and Lemon

**Author's Note:**

> Mod Note: **We'd like to remind all visitors that the art and fiction created for the Harry Big Bang is not to be copied, repurposed, or redistributed without express permission from the artist who created it and that we have exclusivity until 7 March 2015. You are welcome to recommend fics and art by linking back to the post on Ao3, but not to copy and repost elsewhere.**
> 
> A/N: Art in this story is by the indomitable [Tripperfunster.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tripperfunster/pseuds/tripperfunster) It was both an honor and a pleasure working with her. I did one of those happy squee things that women of my age shouldn't do when I saw the artist match-ups!
> 
> Thanks to [Writcraft](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft) and [Badgerlady](http://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerlady/pseuds/badgerlady) for your help with this story. Your encouragement, feedback and keen eyes are much appreciated. And thank you to [Accioslash](http://archiveofourown.org/users/accioslash/pseuds/accioslash) as well, who challenged me to write this plot last December. I was 15,000 words in when she got sick, but I dusted off the story when this fest was announced and am happy to have (finally) finished it. And finally, thank you, moderators, for a phenomenally well-organized and executed fest. Kudos to all!

o-o-O-o-o

The Potions classroom was hidden away in the basement of the ancient Ministry MLE training building. The room was windowless and stuffy, and clearly not designed for brewing. Three long wooden library tables, with four chairs behind each, were arranged in a U shape facing the instructor’s desk, which was currently unoccupied.

Harry Potter and Ernie McMillian were the last two Auror candidates to arrive. They quickly claimed chairs on the left side of the U, then dropped Ministry-issued parchment-filled notebooks onto the table. Harry pulled a quill from his robe pocket and reached across the table for a bottle of ink.

Alice Lamonte leaned over and spoke to them, keeping her voice low. “We just found out we have a replacement instructor,” she said. 

Harry glanced at Alice, curious, as Ernie bent closer to hear. “Really? What happened to Maddington?”

Alice shrugged. “No idea.” She pointed to a stack of parchment on the instructor’s desk. “You might want to pick up a class syllabus.”

Ernie quickly summoned two sheets off the top of the stack and slid one over to Harry.

Potions was the fifth of six specialty subjects on the Auror candidates’ training agenda for the year. They’d already completed Wards, Rune Lore, Malicious Transfiguration and Medical Triage. And after all of those special courses, this was the first written documentation of any kind they’d received. No course notes, textbooks, syllabi, lists of terms and definitions. Nothing. Not until now, anyway. Harry’s rather casual attitude toward note taking and revising had been turned on its ear during these last eight months of Auror Academy.

He sometimes wished he had Hermione here with him.

The Potions syllabus contained a course objective, a short list of required reading, an extensive list of recommended reading, a schedule overview and the instructor’s name.

Master Severus Snape.

Harry stared at the name.

 _Severus Snape._ He’d heard that name before – hadn’t he? Someone his parents knew, maybe? Or someone who worked with one of the Weasleys? No – someone Sirius knew. Someone he and his dad had been discussing when Sirius visited just before Harry’s parents left on their trip. Harry hadn’t been paying much attention to Sirius’ rant. Sirius ranted about nearly _everything_ and Harry had long ago learned to ignore him when he was in one of his moods.

 _Severus Snape_. He sounded the name in his mind, enjoying the sibilance.

The barely perceptible sound of footfalls pulled him from his musings. By the time he turned his head toward the door, a cloudy swirl of black robes was passing behind him. He caught movement from the corner of his eyes, then quickly turned his head toward the front of the classroom.

Severus Snape had arrived.

 _Master_ Snape.

Harry had seven years of classroom experience in Potions behind him, all of them with Professor Horace Slughorn, a veritable institution at Hogwarts. Slughorn had taught his parents, and probably his grandparents before them. When Harry thought about potions – considered them in any way – a vision of the affable Slughorn with his crystallized pineapple, holding court with his Slug Club, nearly always came to mind.

He’d been invited to the Slug Club early in his career at Hogwarts, though certainly not on his own merits. The invitations had stopped after the first year. Harry figured it was because his dad hadn’t coughed up Quidditch tickets for his professor. That was pretty much how Slughorn worked. Slughorn had courted Neville Longbottom, the son of the famous Aurors, relentlessly, though. Harry felt sorry for Neville, and he and Ron would sit in the Gryffindor common room with their friend, coming up with new and inventive excuses for Neville to use when a Slug Club event was scheduled.

But they weren’t at Hogwarts anymore, and Slughorn was fast becoming only a fond memory. Now, Harry watched _this_ Potions instructor as he stood in front of them, ignoring them completely as he examined a scroll he’d picked up from the desk.

Severus Snape was as similar to Slughorn as a Blast-Ended Skrewt was to a Pygmy Puff.

He was all hard angles, dark shadows, and scowls. His black hair reached his shoulders and, when he leaned forward, framed his face so that only his sharp, dark eyes and hawk-like nose peered out from the curtain of lank hair. He was thin, but in a wiry way, and dressed completely in black, from his snakeskin boots to his high, old-fashioned buttoned collar. His skin was sallow, and his fingers, wrapped around the roll of parchment, were faintly discolored, stained with the residue of potions and ink.

Snape looked up at the class. He didn’t smile.

Almost as one, the entire class of Auror shifted in their chairs.

"You are here to learn the subtle science behind the art of potion-making. I don't expect any of you to appreciate the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – ”

Harry felt an unbidden shudder pass through his body. Snape’s voice…his _voice_. He’d never heard anything like it before. It both threatened and promised, hanging there in the still air of the stuffy classroom like an enticement, a petal-soft rose you longed to touch yet avoided for the sharp barb of thorns.

“Nott – what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Theo dropped his quill. Snape was staring at him, and Theo quickly recovered. “A sleeping potion, sir. The Draught of Living Death.”

Snape stared at him for four or five long seconds before nodding his head abruptly. He picked up a quill from his desk, dipped it in ink, and made a mark on the parchment. He scanned the parchment quickly then swept the classroom with his gaze.

“Mueller.”

Adelle Mueller raised her hand. Snape’s gaze rested on her a long moment, quietly assessing, before challenging her with his next question. “Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Harry exchanged a glance with Ernie.

“In a goat’s stomach. Sir.” Adelle’s voice wavered slightly at the unexpected verbal assault.

Again, Snape nodded. Once more he marked the class list. Something seemed to have caught his attention, for he stared at the list for a few extra uncomfortable seconds, lips tight, face expressionless, before raising his head.

“Potter.”

He stretched the word out, and Harry had the vague sense of a snake about to strike.

“Here, sir.”

Harry raised his hand and Snape slowly turned his head to face him.

Something – could it possibly have been a flash of recognition? – passed over Snape’s face. His hands tightened around the parchment. His eyes studied Harry, slid back to the roster, then over to Harry again.

“Potter.” He pronounced the name with a heavy emphasis on the first syllable, drawing it out. He dropped the parchment above the table and it floated down to the desk on a waft of air and slid across to the edge. One corner of his mouth turned up a fraction as he regarded Harry. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Harry released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “There is no difference,” he answered. “Monkshood and wolfsbane are different names for the same plant. It’s also called aconite.”

Snape blinked. Harry could tell that Snape had not expected him to answer correctly. Harry wasn’t really a natural whiz at Potions, and Snape didn’t know that his mum brewed Wolfsbane potion every month for his dad’s friend Remus, or that he’d begun helping her with the ingredient preparation when he was barely seven years old.

“Some of you, at least, appear to have retained something of what Professor Slughorn taught you. But knowing is not understanding, and memorization is not knowledge. Unlike your school instructor, I am not a teacher. I am a Potions master. It is my trade – my profession. But for the next six weeks, I am here with you, like it or not.” He gave the distinct impression he was talking about himself, not the Auror trainees. His mouth curled in distaste and he frowned, then strode quickly to the corner of the room and began removing jars from a rickety set of shelves.

“Who _is_ he?” Ernie whispered. Harry shrugged, not moving his eyes from Snape as he reached high for a jar of something that looked like eyeballs.

For the next two hours, Snape engaged them in an unexpectedly interesting practical lesson on poisons. He presented two vials, each containing a dose of a different potion, passed them around, invited the class to observe them, to smell them, then placed both vials in front of Dean Thomas.

“Choose,” he said in that low voice that Harry already knew would feature prominently in his next wank fantasy. “Choose one, and drink it.”

Dean stared at him, mouth open in disbelief.

“None of the poisons is immediately fatal. I have antidotes to each on my desk. Choose.”

Dean chose correctly – by design or by accident. On the next round, Blaise did not.

After each round, Snape reviewed the ingredients that made up each potion, and the subtle properties that could alert the Aurors to its true nature.

He saved the last round for Harry.

Though perhaps _saved_ was not the correct term. It certainly could not have been chance that had Harry sitting in Snape’s chair instead of in his own, on display in front of the rest of his class, staring at two seemingly identical transparent potions.

“One of these is Veritaserum,” said Snape, his back to Harry, addressing the class. “The other is a quick-acting poison with no known antidote. Three drops of either should suffice.”

He reached into his pocket and held up a bezoar, then dropped it casually on the desk in front of Harry.

Severus couldn’t have known that Harry helped his mum with Remus’ potion. Nor could he have known that Harry’s mum had tutored him relentlessly in Potions, one of her best subjects, in preparation for his Auror’s exams. He didn’t know that Harry could already recognize Veritaserum by its properties – its lack of color, lack of smell.

Harry glanced up at Snape. The man was staring at Harry, arms folded across his chest. He quirked an eyebrow, looking, Harry thought, vaguely pleased with himself.

Harry glanced at the bezoar. He picked it up and turned it in his fingers, recognizing it as a real bezoar, effective against almost every known poison.

Poison or truth serum?

Did he want Snape to force a bezoar down his throat with those long, dexterous fingers or ask Harry any manner of question, which he’d be forced to answer truthfully?

What kind of impression did he want to make on Potions Master Severus Snape?

Harry dipped a finger into the poison and stuck it in his mouth.

The taste was as bitter as he’d expected.

Snape’s hands were on him even as he began to sag, prying open his mouth and pushing the horrible bezoar down his throat. He gagged against the bezoar and the fingers, but Snape was relentless, arm wrapped around his neck from behind, forcefully tilting his head back, forcing the bezoar down even further. His arm tightened on Harry’s neck and chest to keep him upright.

“You’re not at all what I would have expected, Potter.”

Snape muttered the words as he finally let Harry slump forward, pressing between his shoulders firmly with the palm of one hand as Harry coughed and gagged.

But Harry heard them.

And when it was over – when the bezoar had done its work and he’d gagged down a glass of water that did nothing to ease the fiery raw burning in his throat – he watched Elmyra Hansen shake Snape’s hand and give him a dazzling smile, thanking him for a _brilliant_ class, and thought about what Snape had said.

Why should Snape have expected _anything_ from Harry? He was no one special, nothing special. No one Snape would have heard of before – not Neville Longbottom with the famous Auror parents, or Draco Malfoy with the Malfoy fortune behind him. Just an ordinary, struggling Auror trainee like everyone else in this room. He’d had decent marks at school, and had made good friends, but the only areas where he stood out were in Defense and in Quidditch, and neither of those had won him a feature in _The Daily Prophet._

“Come on, Harry. Let’s go have a pint at the Leaky.” Ernie handed Harry his notebook and quill.

“Yeah. Sure.” Harry took his things, tucked the quill back into his pocket, and headed toward the door behind Ernie. But he turned to look back at Snape, and the Potions master looked away from Elmyra and caught his eye.

“Potter. Stay a moment if you would.”

His voice was soft yet authoritative.

“I’ll meet you there,” Harry said to Ernie. Ernie nodded and hurried to catch up with Theo while Harry turned back toward Snape.

“Yes, sir?”

Snape waited until Elmyra was several steps out the door.

“You intentionally chose the poison.” Snape walked around Harry, studying him from the side.

Harry wavered under the scrutiny. “Was it the wrong choice?” he asked, turning to look at Snape full on and taking a deep breath of courage. “What would you have done?”

Snape ignored his question. “You don’t know me, Potter. Why would you trust me with your life?”

“You offered me a bezoar,” said Harry. “I didn’t imagine taking the poison and choking down the bezoar would be pleasant, but probably no more unpleasant than being dosed with Veritaserum in front of the entire class.”

Snape crossed his arms and studied Harry a long moment, then abruptly turned and began gathering up the supplies he’d taken out for the class. Harry watched him, watched how efficiently he moved and worked. There was something intense about this man. Something just on the edge. Something under the surface, that Harry couldn’t quite touch.

“You may leave, Potter. Do remember tomorrow’s assignment – you were a trifle incapacitated when I reminded the others.”

Harry nodded and started to leave, but turned back at the doorway and addressed Snape again.

“Sir? _Was_ it the right choice?”

Snape looked up at him. “I expect that depends on what secrets one has to hide,” he said, then dropped his gaze and returned to his sorting. “Leave, Potter.”

Harry didn’t leave. He stood in the doorway, staring at Snape.

“Have you forgotten your way out of the building? Do you need me to hold your hand and escort you?”

 _Yes. Yes please. Yes Yes Yes._ He imagined those fingers wrapping around his. Damn. He was crushing on the teacher on the first day of class. Then he remembered how Elmyra had fawned all over Snape. He didn’t know Snape – not yet – but figured he wasn’t the kind of person who appreciated fawning.

“See you tomorrow, then,” he said, backing out the door.

“Honey and lemon in your tea,” Snape said, not looking at him as he sorted through a stack of papers. “It will help your throat.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Harry turned and hurried into the corridor.

Honey and lemon. That – Harry thought – pretty accurately described the Potions master.

He’d ask his mum about Snape when he talked with her this weekend. Snape knew about Slughorn – he’d probably gone to Hogwarts, maybe even at the same time as his parents. Sirius had mentioned him, hadn’t he? And if his mum didn’t know him, maybe his dad would. His mum was Muggle-born, and didn’t know all the old Wizarding families as well as his dad did. And from the looks of the robes Snape had been wearing, he was probably from a Wizarding family even older than the Potters. Those robes had to be designed before the Great Goblin Revolt of 1612.

Those form-fitting robes. Those robes with buttons from hem to collar, ending with two onyx black buttons just under his chin, perfectly matching those piercing black eyes.

 _Honey and lemon in your tea._ Not quite an invitation to get to know each other better, but it was something.


	2. A Man Can Dream

Severus watched the boy leave, then sank onto the uncomfortable wooden chair behind the desk and stared at the spot where Harry Potter had stood.

Lily’s child. The child she’d so wanted. The child she’d had with Potter.

He’d forced himself to stop thinking about Lily years ago. After he learned she was pregnant, before the child was born. She’d told him herself that she was pregnant – standing in the doorway of his laboratory, not even twenty years old herself.

Beaming. She’d hurried over to him and had thrown her arms around his neck. A touch he’d once craved, but now resented.

He’d been immersed in his research by then, on his way to his Mastery, and the schedule he’d set for himself, the goals he’d decided he must attain, left no time for love, no time for bitterness, no time for might-have-beens.

Yet it had been one of the most bittersweet moments of his life. Success and failure rolled together until it choked him, left an odd and unpleasant taste in his mouth.

He should have expected the boy would resemble his father – lanky, messy hair and easy smile. But he’d been startled to see Lily’s eyes staring out of a face that so strongly recalled James Potter. He’d loved those eyes once, loved Lily’s eyes, once upon a time.

As surprised as he was by the boy’s appearance in his peaceful little world, he was even more surprised by his behavior. Potter had been _interested_ in him, yet had given no indication that he knew of Snape, that he’d heard stories of _Snivellus_ from his father or his pack of Gryffindors.

No, Harry Potter hadn’t looked at Severus with derision, or malice, or distaste.

It was an intriguing possibility – and Snape was nothing if not a seize-the-moment type of person. Something in the boy’s posture, in the way those green eyes had watched him during class, had clearly indicated that Snape had caught his attention, and not necessarily in an academic way. Why, Severus had no idea. He had no illusions of his physical attraction, and he was twice as old as most of the students. But he wasn’t a fossil yet, and he certainly did not turn away perfectly good opportunities when they were practically dropped in his lap.

He smiled wryly at the thought of a lapful of Harry Potter.

_I owe you, Severus. I’ll do something for you some day. You only have to ask._

He doubted she’d think it funny if he were to claim her son in repayment of the long-ago favour, no matter how ironic it would be.

His smile gave way to a scowl. He shook his head, trying to clear the presumptuous thoughts. Potter had watched him, true. But the other students had watched him, as well. It didn’t mean they all wanted to jump in bed with him. He’d just noticed Potter more, paid him more attention. The idiot boy had deliberately poisoned himself, after all.

He didn’t want to examine his reasons for choosing Harry Potter for that last test. Not yet, anyway.

Besides, he couldn’t act on anything even if the boy _did_ want some extracurricular activity. He couldn’t do a thing until after his commitment here ended. _Commitment._ Sentence, more like it. But it would only last six weeks, then he’d be rid of this unwanted assignment. Why couldn’t they just fine him and be done with the whole thing? It was ridiculous to ban ingredient collection in the Forbidden Forest. That place was a veritable treasure trove of raw materials for half the potions in his arsenal, potions the Ministry required and routinely purchased from him. He’d been skimming off that particular area of the forest for years before he’d been caught.

No. Not caught. Turned in, most likely.

How appropriate, he thought, that Harry Potter owed his very existence to the rare mushrooms he’d discovered there while he was still at Hogwarts. Maybe he’d throw _that_ at Sirius Black one of these days. If Black ever settled down and tried to reproduce, he might require a little mushroom therapy himself.

Snape arranged a row of jars on the shelf, his hand pausing over one marked _Aconite._

Better to banish all thoughts of the boy. He was barely out of Hogwarts – probably only eighteen or nineteen years old. No matter the boy’s intentions, no matter if he was in the habit of seducing all his instructors, he was still a Potter, and Snape couldn’t imagine explaining to this particular Potter that he’d grown up with his mother, had once been her best friend. That he’d watched telly in his grandparents’ home, caught butterflies in their garden, spied on his Aunt Petunia from the branch of an old oak tree.

He couldn’t imagine explaining that he’d once been in love with Lily Potter.

That even after they’d fallen apart, she had come to him, stricken, and he’d promised to help her, and had embarked on research that not only had given her the child she wanted with James Potter, but had ultimately given him steady income over the years to fund his other research.

No, he could not tell Harry Potter any of these things. Potter’s attention – if attention it was – would have to be deflected. He’d just turn his focus on that girl – the one who’d squeezed his hand so warmly. Not his type – at all – but it would serve to let Potter know that he wasn’t interested. And if it made him jealous, well – _that_ would be interesting to watch. In fact, it might even make the next six weeks marginally entertaining.

It would be a diversion, and had the added advantage of James or Lily Potter not showing up on his doorstep threatening him or pleading with him. He could turn a cold ear and the back side of the door to James Potter’s threats, but didn’t trust himself to do the same with Lily’s pleas.

He finished cleaning up, extinguished the lights, and closed the door behind him. If he hurried, he’d be back to Spinner’s End and his waiting projects before the Extended-life Polyjuice was ready to be decanted.

But Harry Potter, like it or not, was on his mind most of the evening. Did Potter really avoid the Veritaserum on purpose? Did he have secrets to hide?

Could he possibly have just wanted Snape’s hands on him? To encourage a bit of physical contact, even if it meant deliberately poisoning himself?

Who would trust someone they’d just met with their very life? No one – no one save a foolish Gryffindor, perhaps.

Snape couldn’t deny that he’d liked touching the boy. Liked that long neck beneath his arm. Liked those lips around his fingers. Liked that tousled head pressed back against his shoulder. Liked those shining green eyes, watering beneath the round spectacles.

Harry Potter, choking on a bezoar. Putty in his hands. Putty of his own making.

He chuckled.

It wasn’t meant to be, of course. But a man could dream.


	3. Eyes on the Prize

Harry almost didn’t make it to the Leaky Cauldron that evening.

First he stopped to talk to Tonks, and then Sirius showed up.

Nymphadora Tonks was one of the Auror mentors working with his class. He’d known her long before he entered the force – even before she’d married Remus Lupin, one of his dad’s best friends, back when he was still at Hogwarts. She’d been the one who’d most encouraged him to join up after Ron put the bug in his ear about it. If Harry Potter had any fame at all, it was in his Auror class, and it was because of his friendship with Tonks. Tonks was the idol of half the Auror Corps. She was tough, dependable and fun. She’d had a baby a year ago – and had worked right up to the end. They’d had to haul her off to St. Mungo’s kicking and screaming. It was probably a good thing that Remus stayed home to care for little Teddy.

“Tonks!” His throat tightened and he coughed as he hurried to reach her.

Tonks paused in the doorway of the corridor leading to the dueling chambers and fitness room.

“Harry!” She gave him a big smile, the kind that would have made his friends jealous had they been there with him. She was athletic, and tough, and friendly to everyone, but she had a special fondness for Harry and it showed. “Off to the Leaky with the rest of the lot?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” he said. “Just out of Potions. What happened to Maddington?”

“What happened to your voice?” she countered.

“Identifying potions by taste,” he answered, sliding over the half-truth. “So – Maddington?”

“Believe it or not – Potions accident. Blew off most of her fingers. They’ve regrown them but she’s taking the term off." She grinned and shrugged. "How’s the replacement? They were scrambling there at the end to find someone.”

“Great. He’s excellent, really. Kind of hard and demanding – but one of the best lessons we’ve had.”

Tonks pretended to pout. “Better than Curse Detection and Wards with me and Bill?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We had to sort through a bushel basket of tea cosies looking for the cursed one. How is that fun?”

“They were lovely tea cosies,” said Tonks. “Remus and Sirius crocheted them especially for the class.”

Harry grinned. “You know I love you, Tonks.” He looked around him, then back down the corridor, and lowered his voice. “Just – you’re not a bloke, and Bill’s already taken.”

“Hey! I could be a bloke!” Tonks was a Metamorphmagus. She scrunched up her face and grew a beard.

“Not my type,” said Harry, laughing. He tugged on her beard and she grinned and morphed back into her regular self. “Besides – you’re taken, too. So, what do you know about Snape?”

Tonks frowned. “Snape? You don’t mean Severus Snape, do you?”

“Right.” He pulled the syllabus from his pocket and held it out to her, thumb next to Snape’s name. “Says so right here. He’s taken over for Maddington this term. So you know him?”

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip. “Not personally,” she said. She paused, considering. “I know _of_ him. He supplies our rarest potions here. Has his own brewing business for a handful of exclusive customers – he’s invented a variety of potions, and improved and enhanced quite a few more.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe they got _Snape_ to fill in. He’s got a reputation – hard to work with. Demanding. Thinks pretty highly of himself.”

There was something in her voice – something that made Harry look up from the syllabus and catch her eye.

Tonks schooled her features, but it was too late.

“What else do you know about him? Tonks?” He edged closer to her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Come on – tell me. Please? I’ll babysit for you - this weekend, if you’d like.”

Tonks relented, speaking quickly. “He was at Hogwarts with your mum and the Marauders. Slytherin. They didn’t get on well. That’s all I know – and you’re on the hook for that babysitting, young man. Six thirty on Saturday – don’t be late.”

Harry had the feeling she knew quite a bit more than that. He should have known Snape was a Slytherin – only a Slytherin would come up with a test that made one choose between Veritaserum and poison. He started after her as she continued down the corridor toward the weight room.

“Hey – Tonks!” He lowered his voice again when she turned around. “Is he married?”

Tonks’ eyes – violet today, to match her hair – widened.

“Is _who_ married?”

Harry whirled around to see Sirius Black – his dad’s best friend and his godfather – standing in the doorway they’d just vacated.

“You’re on your own here, kid,” Tonks said, ducking into the weight room. “See you Saturday!”

Harry stuck his tongue out at her, then schooled his features carefully before he turned.

“Hey, Sirius,” he said, trying to look as casual as possible. Sirius was between girlfriends – again – and had been trying to convince Harry to go out clubbing with him. “You’re too young to know what you want. Settling on blokes at this point of your life means you’re eliminating half the potential single population,” he’d said. “We’ll go out to the Blue Moon, pick up a couple of ladies….”

Only Harry wasn’t at all interested in ladies, and he was pretty sure Sirius knew it wasn’t just a phase.

It wasn’t something he hid from Sirius, or from anyone. Sirius had had a couple of boyfriends amongst all those girlfriends himself. But Harry didn’t want to go out clubbing. Pints at the Leaky with his friends was all the nightlife he needed at this point in his career. And it wasn’t like he had time for a social life anyway. Not with the long days of training and the evening and weekend patrols the trainees were assigned with active Aurors.

Harry had reached the doorway now, and Sirius backed into the foyer. Sirius Black had been with the Aurors for twenty years, and had risen up in the ranks to a fairly cushy recruiting job. He also headed up the Muggle Obliviation team.

“On my way to the Leaky,” Harry said by way of greeting. “What are you up to?”

“Finding out who you were talking about,” said Sirius. He winked at Harry and gave him a cheeky grin. “Sounds like you’re interested in someone.”

Harry shrugged. “I was just asking Tonks about our new Potions instructor.”

Sirius brightened. “Right. They were having a hell of a time filling that position after Maddington blew up her bathroom. Wrinkle cream, my eye – she was definitely doing something dodgy.” He grinned at Harry. “So – who is it? I was kind of hoping that Dumbledore would come out of retirement and give it a go.”

“No – not Dumbledore,” said Harry. His old headmaster had finally retired at the end of his sixth year. “I heard he and McGonagall are holed up somewhere writing the new Transfiguration textbook.” His eyes widened. “Hey – do you think Dumbledore and McGonagall….?”

Sirius held up his hand to stop Harry. “Stop. I could have gone my entire life without picturing that.”

Harry grinned. “Ron said he saw them come out of a broom closet together once.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “The Weasley twins were probably in the Polyjuice stores again.” Sirius was leaning against the wall beside the stairs that led down to the classroom now, flexing his fingers like he always did when he had nothing else to do with them. “Enough, now. Who is it, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “His name is Snape.” He took care to watch for Sirius’ reaction. “It was a great class, Sirius. He was the best teacher we’ve had so far. Hands on and practical – and organized. He even had a syllabus and class objectives.”

Bingo. Sirius’ face was starting to cloud. Time to deflect.

“I think Elmyra already has a crush on him. You should have seen her after class. She was shaking his hand and batting her eyes and telling him what an honor it was to meet him.” Harry looked up at Sirius innocently. “I mean, he was good, but I’m not sure why she was making such a big deal over meeting him.” He shrugged. “So, do you know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.” Sirius’ fingers were clenched into fists now. He fixed Harry with his warning glare, his expression clearly displeased. His fingers unclenched, then clenched again. “You stay away from him, Harry. He’s trouble. You keep your eyes on the prize – getting through this year and getting certified. You’re not a shoo-in, Harry, just because you know me and Tonks. You had to work hard just to pass your entrance exams.” He lowered his voice. “As for Snape – he got into a lot of trouble at Hogwarts. He was way too interested in the Dark Arts. He knew more dark spells than most kids at Hogwarts when he was only a first year. He couldn’t be trusted then and I doubt he’s changed much.”

Harry shrugged. “He didn’t seem dark today,” he said. “Everyone seemed to like the class, anyway.”

“Don’t trust him, Harry. I mean it.”

“Alright – I hear you,” Harry said with a grin. “So, did you know him at Hogwarts? Was he in your year?”

“Yes and yes,” answered Sirius, voice clipped. He stared through the door down the stairway. Harry wondered what he was planning to do – go down and threaten Snape? Had it been that obvious that he was interested?

“Wait,” said Harry as Sirius pushed off the wall and turned to go downstairs. “I bet Regulus knew him. If Snape was in your year, they’d have been in Slytherin at the same time.”

Sirius stopped in his tracks and turned. His ears were pink. He looked like he wanted to strangle someone the way his hands kept clenching. “Listen, Harry,” he said, keeping his voice level only with obvious effort. Harry could see him about to change tactics. His voice softened – his words were almost a plea. “He and your mum – they – well, they didn’t get along. She won’t want to hear he’s here, or that you think he’s a good teacher, or anything else about him.”

Harry stared at Sirius. He couldn’t tell if he was lying, perhaps deflecting just as Harry had. But he sensed a grain of truth in the statement.

“Alright,” he conceded. “I was just curious. I suppose I’ll go on to the Leaky, then.”

Sirius surprised him by stepping forward and wrapping him in a one-armed hug. “I’m taking you out on the town this weekend – we’ll go to a club I like and have Sondra teach you how to dance. You need to know how to dance even with the blokes. No – I insist.” He dropped his arms and grinned. “Saturday? We can grab something to eat at that Indian place down the street from the Leaky first. Seven?”

Harry nodded, giving in. He didn’t want to give Sirius anything else to be upset about. “Alright. But I told Tonks I’d babysit Teddy on Saturday. How about Friday?”

“Sure – Friday’s good, too.” Sirius reached out as if to ruffle his hair, but his hand froze in the air midway between them, then dropped heavily to his side.

“I keep forgetting you’re not a kid anymore, Harry,” he said, a wistful smile softening his face.

Impulsively, Harry hugged him. “Sometimes, I do too,” he said.

But he didn’t feel much like a kid at all when he left for the Leaky, thinking of Severus Snape’s voice, and of his long fingers on his neck, despite Sirius’ warnings.


	4. Worth the Trouble

Someone – someone decidedly not in stealth Auror mode but more in “Herd of Hippogriffs” mode – was striding down the corridor.

Snape was getting materials ready for tomorrow’s class. He’d save himself considerable time by doing it now, time he could spend in his lab tomorrow, or having a real lunch instead of a cup of tea and an apple. Or better yet, researching a supplier for the wood boring beetles and Strict Haircap moss he’d been collecting for some time from his little hideaway in the Forbidden Forest. Only until such time as he could carve out a new hollow in another part of the Forest, of course. Perhaps somewhere a bit closer to the Acromantulas’ den, where nosy Aurors were less likely to pry.

He’d do without the Madcap mushrooms until then – they’d cost an arm and a leg and perhaps a kidney, too.

He only had time to guess that one of the students must have left something behind in the classroom and was coming back to fetch it when the doorway was filled with thirteen stone of what, from the brief glance Snape gave him before he returned to his work, could only be senior Auror Sirius Black. Taller than Snape remembered, grown up, filled out, but just as cocky.

Black didn’t say anything. He stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, staring at Severus while he worked. When Black was still there five minutes later, and Severus was growing tired of alphabetizing ingredients, he spoke without turning around.

“Well, you certainly add color to this drab room.”

“Do you know how lucky you are?” asked Black. His voice was as Severus remembered it. It could have passed for Regulus’ except for the slight hoarseness from too many Muggle cigarettes.

"To have you for wall decoration?” quipped Severus. “I’d prefer a mirror. Or perhaps the heads of the family house-elves.” He turned and looked pointedly at Sirius, then turned back to the shelves, ignoring him completely.

“I thought they’d thrown you in Azkaban, Snape.” Black spoke from the doorway, sounding deliberately disinterested.

“For picking mushrooms in the Forbidden Forest? I hardly think so.” Severus turned and walked back to his desk. He placed a bag of desiccated flobberworms in the top drawer and closed it firmly. “Crime must be at an all-time low for you to spend valuable Ministry time harassing legitimate Potions masters, Black.”

“Legitimate?” Black laughed. He stepped into the room, striding purposefully toward Severus. He stopped in front of the desk, the hilt of his wand just barely showing under the cuff of his robe where a holster secured it to his wrist. He lowered his voice, the threat in it obvious. “I’m not here to discuss your habit of trespassing and stealing, Snape. I’m here to discuss my godson.”

“Your godson? Someone had entrusted _you_ with the potential upbringing of their progeny?” Snape said, raising an eyebrow and allowing himself a smirk. He should have guessed Black would be Potter’s godfather. He and James Potter had been attached at the hip at Hogwarts.

“You know perfectly well I’m talking about Harry Potter,” Black answered, narrowing his gaze and staring hard at Severus. “I’m sure you recognized him – he’s the spitting image of his dad." He picked up the ink bottle from the desk and examined it, then slammed it back onto the desk. "James Potter. I’m sure you remember him.” Sirius smirked, then his gaze changed, challenging Severus. “But he’s got his mother’s eyes, hasn’t he, Snape?”

Ah. Black had him there. Harry Potter most certainly _did_ have his mother’s eyes.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he lied easily. “I have nine students in this classroom, Black. And will for the next six weeks. I am not about to make special allowances for any one of them, especially not Potter, and especially not if you ask. Good day.”

“Special allowances?” Black let out a deep laugh. Severus scowled. Black’s laugh hadn’t changed in twenty years. Still harsh and condescending.

“Is he dim-witted, Black? Did you pull some strings to get him into the program?”

“Shut up.” Black was glaring at him now, his face turning an unattractive mottled red. He flicked his wrist and his wand slid down into his hand. He tapped it against his thigh, looking more confident with the weapon in hand. “Stay away from Harry Potter, Snape. I’m only going to tell you once. He’s off-limits.”

“Off-limits?” Snape leveled a cool gaze at Black, refusing to show anything but sarcasm. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

The hand on the wand tightened. It twitched, as if itching to lift, as if its owner would be more comfortable, in control, with the weapon pointed directly between Snape’s eyes.

“You understand me perfectly, _Snivellus_ ,” growled Black. Snape’s mouth tightened in displeasure.

So, Black wanted _war_.

“The Ministry has placed no constraints on me other than that I complete a six-week training curriculum with the current set of nine Auror trainees. Did I perhaps miss something in the _orientation?"_ Snape’s emphasis made it clear that there had been no orientation of any sort. He had been shown to the classroom, the course objectives explained, and that was that.

“Shut up.” Black was nearly seething now. He never could win a war of words, and when he didn’t have James or Remus nearby, his hot head often got the better of him. He leaned in closer to Snape now. “Don’t touch him. He’s not James, and he’s not Lily, either.”

“Ah.” Severus forced a smirk on his face. “I understand. Fine. You want him for yourself. You were there first. Finders keepers and all that.”

As expected, Black lost the fragile hold he had on his cool.

As Severus had intended.

Severus didn’t have his wand in his hand when Sirius cast the spell, yet despite the years between his turbulent Hogwarts education and his relatively peaceful life as a Potions master, he could manage an adequate Protego without one.

Black’s spell hit Severus’ wandless shield and, because he was at such close range, bounced back before he could cast his own. His wand clattered to the floor and rolled under the desk when his body was jerked up and into the air.

He hung there, upside down and sputtering, suspended in the air by an invisible hand holding his ankle, while Severus calmly collected his things.

“Everything alright in here? We got an unknown hex alert back in control from a registered Auror’s wand, followed by a wandless shield spell....”

The Auror in the corridor, young, officious, stopped in the doorway, gaping.

“Is that you, Auror Black?”

“Harmless duel,” barked out Black. “We’re fine in here. Dismissed.”

The younger Auror glanced at Snape. “Sir?”

Snape nodded. “Harmless,” he repeated. He stepped out into the corridor and glanced at Black, then at the Auror. “I’m late for an appointment. I’ll leave you to clean up, then.”

He was seething inside, despite the compromised position in which he’d left Black. That spell. _That_ spell. After all these years, Black would _dare_ to use his own Levicorpus on him.

Sirius Black didn’t want Snape anywhere near his godson.

Perhaps Harry Potter would be worth the trouble after all.


	5. Outgrowing Dragons

Harry didn’t mention Snape to Ron for several days.

The first class with Snape had been on a Tuesday. He’d met the other trainees at the pub after class, where his friends had tried to extract from him whatever secret it was he was trying to protect by opting to take poison instead of Veritaserum. No one seemed to have any doubt that Harry Potter could tell the difference between the potions and hadn’t made a mistake when he’d dosed himself with the poison.

Harry laughed. “How many of you would sit there in front of our class dosed up with Veritaserum voluntarily?”

“But you don’t even know him!” protested Ernie. “You had no idea that his antidotes were adequately prepared. As it was, he had to shove a bezoar down your throat.”

“They wouldn’t dare put anyone in front of a group like us if they didn’t know their way around the Potions lab,” Harry said. He was hoping this story would die here and not make its way around the MLE or – worse yet – to his friend Hermione. “And come on – after that class? I thought Slughorn was good – but Snape can dance circles around him.”

Fortunately, his friends were already on their second round, and as that comment had the effect of distracting them into imagining Snape dancing, the conversation never strayed back to Harry’s decision to taste the poison.

Sirius left him a note in his Ministry mailbox on Wednesday morning, asking him to meet at the Leaky at six. But just before Potions, Theo hurried in, out of breath, with the news that a whole squad of Auror Obliviators, led by Sirius Black, had been sent to Stonehenge, where an entire Muggle tour had just witnessed a Common Green Welsh dragon alight on top of a stone column. Nearly every one of them had a camera.

Coincidentally – or so it seemed – the Potions lesson for Wednesday centered on dragons.

As the continental dragon population grew, it was not uncommon for Aurors to be sent out on dragon patrol. Most of the patrolling was Muggle redirection and Obliviation, but all Aurors were trained in dragon behavior and basic control as well, as they were usually on the scene before the dragon handlers.

Snape launched into his lesson, easily demonstrating how the very ingredients Potions masters covet so much from dragons can be used in potions to protect Aurors _from_ dragons. The Auror trainees learned to identify different breeds of dragons from their scales, teeth and claws, then prepared the ingredients for a heat-repelling potion, using mortar and pestle to grind scales into coarse, sand-like granules. They coated their arms with the potion, then dipped them into a vat of steaming water to test the efficacy of their concoction. Knowing how the potion would be tested at the end of the lesson proved to be a highly motivating factor for the class, and there was not much idle chatter during the preparation phase.

After the lesson, Harry took his time packing up his things but, nonetheless, Elmyra still had Snape cornered when he left. Harry glanced at Snape, catching his eye over Elmyra’s back. But Snape turned his attention back to Elmyra as she continued to talk, and Harry surreptitiously placed his parchment notebook on a table, turned, and left the room.

He found Tonks in the lobby, waiting to deliver a report to the shift leader before she left to join the forces at Stonehenge. Harry entertained her with his newfound dragon lore until he saw Elmyra appear in the lobby and leave through the front door. She was clutching her notebook to her chest, a pleased smile on her face and a slight flush on her cheeks.

He didn’t like that look on her.

“Oops – forgot my Potions notes,” he said, backing away from Tonks with a wave. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, and Harry grinned and headed for Snape’s room.

Snape was still there.

“I forgot my notes,” said Harry, edging over to his table. Snape was standing beside it, Harry’s notebook in hand.

Snape looked at him suspiciously. “These are _notes_?” He held the book out toward Harry.

“Yes?” answered Harry, blushing. He’d been sketching Snape in profile as he worked. The book was open to the sketch.

“Not my good side,” quipped Snape. “And you are not generous enough with my nose.” He watched Harry tuck the book into his robe pocket.

“No?” asked Harry, willing the blush away. He really hadn’t expected Snape to _open_ his notebook, though he had thought he’d see through the gesture of accidentally leaving it behind.

Snape quirked an eyebrow. Harry grinned.

“Ron’s brother – Ron is my flatmate - is a dragon handler in Romania,” he explained. “I was one of those nerdy little kids that talked about dragons all the time – like Muggle kids talk about dinosaurs. I have whole notebooks full of cartoon drawings of dragons. Not a lot of what we did today was exactly new for me.”

Snape glanced at the pocket where Harry had slipped the notebook. “Perhaps you’re outgrowing dragons now,” he said, his voice just barely suggestive.

Harry’s heart sped up. He didn’t have much experience at this, but that felt a lot like an opening.

He hesitated. “So – Tonks tells me you went to school with my parents.”

“Tonks?” Snape looked confused. “Who – or what – is Tonks?”

“Nymphadora Tonks,” Harry explained. “She’s an Auror. She’s married to one of my dad’s friends.”

Snape seemed to be staring right through him now. Harry wondered if bringing up his parents wasn’t the best idea in the world. “Yes, I was at Hogwarts with James Potter. You resemble him strongly.”

Harry shook his head and sighed. “I’ve been hearing that all my life.” He fixed his gaze back on Snape. “Tonks told me you were in Slytherin. I guess you weren’t friends with my dad, then.”

“I see the house rivalries still exist,” Snape said, “if you are predisposed to believe that I would not have had friends in Gryffindor.” He shook his head, though. “No, we were not friends.” He stared at Harry for a long moment. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Harry smiled. “That’s another one I’ve heard all my life. So – you knew my mum, too?”

Severus nodded. “Lily Evans. She was not at all the annoying Gryffindor your father was.”

“Oh, she has her moments,” Harry said. He didn’t want to talk about his parents, aside from using them as an opening, an excuse to spend time chatting with Snape. He certainly didn’t want to bring up whatever animosity was between them, if Sirius was to be believed. “Tonks also says you’ve got your own potions business – that you supply a lot of the potions we use here at the MLE.”

“Does she?” Snape swept his wand in an arc and the lights in the room dimmed, then went out. He walked into the corridor and Harry followed him out. “This Tonks seems to know a lot about me.”

Harry shrugged. “Aurors know a lot about a lot of people.” He easily kept pace with Snape. “She says you supply our high-level potions. I’d love to learn more about them. Think I could see your lab sometime?”

Severus laughed. “You’re new at this, aren’t you, Potter?” he said. He glanced at Harry, and Harry could tell he was amused more than annoyed.

Harry frowned. “New at what? I just figured your lab would be great – all sorts of….”

“New at flirting,” Snape interrupted, lowering his voice.

“Did I do it wrong?” asked Harry. He bit back a smile. “Should I have asked you out for a pint or something first?”

“Before inviting yourself to my home?” Snape said. Harry had followed him out of the classroom and they’d been walking side by side. Harry looked up to find they’d made their way to the Floo and Apparation area.

“Your lab is in your home?” asked Harry. They stopped and Snape reached for the Floo powder.

“Perhaps.” He turned and eyed Harry. “Mr. Potter, there can be great satisfaction in the chase,” he said with an odd smile. Harry thought that smile looked a bit feral. He lowered his voice to a quiet drawl. “Take it slower, Potter. _Work_ for it.”

Harry stared as Snape dropped the Floo powder in the fire and spun out of sight. He’d strained to hear him speak his destination, but the words were lost in the cracks of a sudden influx of Aurors Apparating in from the clean-up at Stonehenge.

***

“Older than Bill – but younger than your parents.”

Harry was sitting on the comfortable, worn sofa in the flat he shared with his best friend, Ron. Harry’s dad had helped get Ron a position with the United Kingdom Quidditch League, and Ron was working as junior equipment manager for the Holyhead Harpies this season. The job helped ease the sting of being rejected by the Aurors. Ron’s twin brothers, who owned a joke shop, had been trying to develop an exploding birthday cake the previous summer, and one of their prototypes had exploded in Ron’s face, blowing off his right ear and leaving him nearly deaf on that side. They’d been able to regrow the ear, at least, though it didn’t quite match the other.

Funny thing was, Ron had been one of the driving forces to influence Harry to join the Aurors. Of course, at the time, he’d thought they’d be joining together. Ron had thought being an Auror would be _cool_. Harry had had no real idea what he wanted to do with his life, only that he wanted to do something on his own merit, and not take a job from his dad just because his dad was in the position to give him one. He was good at Defense, decent at Potions, average at most everything else, and when he talked to Sirius and Tonks about it the summer before seventh year, they both had thought he’d make a good Auror.

Ron grinned. “That would make him about the same age as your parents, mate. What’s he look like?”

Harry shrugged. “Not your type.”

“I don’t have a type in blokes. Come on – what’s he look like? Like Oliver Wood, yeah?”

“Um – no. Not much.” Harry couldn’t think of one single way that Snape resembled his old Quidditch captain. “And why did you bring up Oliver if you don’t have a type, anyway?”

Ron brushed off Harry’s accusation. “You know – Oliver. He’s good looking, Harry. All the girls were mad about him. So come on, just tell me. What’s he like?”

Harry shrugged. “He’s average. My height, maybe? Thin. Dark hair.”

“Thin with dark hair or thin dark hair? What are you trying to tell me? Is he bald like Dad?”

Harry laughed. “No. Not bald. Look, I don’t like him for his looks.”

“Why not? Is he ugly? He’s not like Slughorn, is he? He’s all I can bring up when I think about Potions.”

“Were you listening to me at all? I said thin. Dark. In what world is Slughorn thin and dark?”

Ron shuddered. “Well, if he’s not much to look at, why do you like him?”

“I never said he wasn’t much to look at.”

“Well, is he?” asked Ron shrewdly.

Harry glared at him. “He’s fine. He’s got a big nose. Prominent, I mean. But he’s just…I don’t know. He’s got the sexiest voice you’ve ever heard.”

“Sexier than Trelawney’s?” Ron said, grinning widely.

Harry threw a sofa pillow in his direction and Ron snatched it out of the air and lobbed it right back at him.

“I’m serious. His voice – it’s like liquid sex. There’s just something about him, too. Attitude, I’d call it. He’s brilliant – sarcastic and smart and ….” He trailed off, shook his head, then grinned at Ron. “Our class today was about dragons. He was telling us how ingredients from dragons – scales and teeth and blood and such – could be used in potions to protect us from dragons. And Crabbe looks at him, that Crabbe-ish look on his face like always, and asks him how we get the dragon to drink the potion.”

Ron shook his head and lifted one large foot, resting it on the edge of the tottery coffee table. “I can’t believe Crabbe’s made it this far in the Academy.” He sighed. “I miss ol’ Crabbengoyle.”

“I think Crabbe misses Goyle too,” said Harry, rolling his eyes as Ron mimicked Crabbe’s vacant look. “ _Anyway_ , Snape says, without blinking an eye, ‘You swallow the potion yourself, then let the dragon eat you.’”

Ron laughed. “If you like him, why not ask him out? Well, after your class is over, anyway. Probably shouldn’t be going out with the teacher, you know.”

“I did. Kind of. I’m pants at this, really. I kind of invited myself to his place to see his lab.”

“Now that’s a pick-up line if I ever heard one,” said Ron. “What’d he say?”

“That I was moving too fast. He told me there was ‘great satisfaction in the chase’ and that I should ‘work for it.’”

“Really? He said that?”

“Yeah – why?”

“Look, I don’t pick up blokes, but that’s what I’d say if I were interested,” Ron said. “And he’s right, you know. He’s asking you to court him.”

“What?” Harry’s voice actually squeaked. “ _Court_ him? No. No way. I am not going to send him gifts and compose poetry and….”

“Mate! Stop! That’s not what I meant. I meant he’s wanting _you_ to make the moves – to pursue him.”

“Oh. Right. Sure. I can do that.” Harry gave a nervous laugh. “What do I do next, then?”

“I don’t know – stay after class and help him scrub cauldrons?”

“Sure, Ron. I’ll just pretend it’s a detention.” Harry glared at Ron, and they both laughed. “What about leaving him a note? Maybe with my homework?”

“That could work,” said Ron. His fingers were digging down between the sofa cushion and the arm, and he triumphantly pulled out a piece of stale toast with a bite taken out of it. Harry knocked it out of his hand before he could even consider eating it.

“Mate. No! That’s disgusting.”

Ron lunged for the toast but Harry tossed it across the room toward the bin.

“What do you think your parents are going to say about you fancying this bloke?” Ron asked when they’d both settled back onto the sofa. “You think they know him?”

“Oh, they know him. Or knew him,” said Harry. “Tonks said they were in the same year and Snape confirmed it. I don’t think they were friends, though. And Sirius went half-ballistic. Told me Snape was trouble and I should stay away from him.”

“He doesn’t know you very well, does he?” said Ron. “He forgets you’re a Gryffindor and love a challenge.”

Harry smiled. “He also claimed Snape was heavy into the Dark Arts and said that he and my mum didn’t get along.”

“Low blow,” said Ron.

“But he also said I look like my dad but have my mum’s eyes.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Maybe there’s more there with your mum than he’s letting on. Mentioning her eyes and all – not just anyone would do that.”

Harry shrugged. He thought so, too. “Maybe.”

“So are you going to tell your parents?”

“I haven’t talked to them yet,” answered Harry. “Last time they Floo-called they were in some Brazilian village on the Amazon. They’re not coming back from South America until right before my birthday.”

“Oh – mate – I meant to tell you. I forgot when you started talking about Snape. Your dad Floo-called me at work today – he wants to bring me down for a week when they get to Buenos Aires for the South American Quidditch Cup,” Ron said, pleased smile nearly splitting his face. “I get to help with equipment for the semi-finals.”

“Wow.” Harry smiled back at Ron. “Still upset you couldn’t join up with me?”

Ron shook his head. “Not so much,” he said. “I can’t imagine having a better job than this at this point in my life.” He stuck his hand down in the couch again and gave an exaggerated sign when it came up empty.

“So – your parents? Are you going to tell them or not?” he asked. It was clear from his tone of voice that he thought it a very bad idea.

Harry shook his head. “No reason to, is there? There’s nothing going on, so there’s nothing to tell. I don’t keep them up on all the blokes I fancy. And I have no idea if anything will even come of this. Mum will eventually guess, though, if he does agree to go out with me. I’ve never been able to hide anything from her for too long.”

“That’s what you get having a researcher for a mum,” said Ron. “Not everyone gets to claim that his mum wrote the new Herbology Textbook series for Hogwarts.”

“Well, for being my mum, and thinking she knows me so well, she shouldn’t have been so surprised when she found that magazine under my mattress last summer.”

Ron groaned. “ _Pocket Wand_. I suppose it could have been worse.”

“Nothing could be worse than having a clinical discussion with your own mum about what two men get up to in bed.”

Ron grimaced in sympathy. “Hermione’s coming over and bringing pizza. Why don’t you give her some input on male erogenous zones, since you’re the expert now?”

Harry laughed. “You two.” He stood up and headed to his room, then turned and looked at Ron. “Are you telling me that Hermione needs help …” He dodged the pillow Ron threw at him. “Just call me when the pizza gets here.”

He had an uneasy feeling about bringing up the subject of Snape to his parents. Sirius clearly disapproved, and more than hinted of some bad blood between Snape and his mum. He didn’t have to discuss Snape with his parents – now that he and Ron had their own place, they didn’t know the ins and outs of his daily life and, besides, they were off on their long-awaited three-month tour of Central and South America. But with Sirius in the know, it was bound to get back to them sooner or later, and Harry stood a better chance of defusing the matter if he got to them before Sirius did. He’d mention Snape to his mum next time she Floo-called, but he wouldn’t tell her he was actually interested in him.

As for Sirius, he’d figured out Sirius years ago. He only had to stay calm and rational while his godfather blustered about and he’d almost always come out on top.


	6. Endurance Training

Severus’ advice to the boy had not gone unheeded.

Thursday passed with no overt gestures from Potter. He didn’t follow Severus out of class, accidentally leave something behind in the classroom or attempt to impress Severus with his knowledge of percentages and ratios in the lesson on determining the correct dosage of volatile potions for different body sizes and weights. When class was over, he didn’t linger. He nodded a polite goodbye and left the room with Ernie McMillan and Theodore Nott.

Friday was another story.

Severus hadn’t known that his class had endurance training every Friday before their special session class. This Friday, the first of the session, they trickled in more slowly than on previous days, some of them apparently with robes hastily pulled on. Harry was the last to arrive, panting, his robes slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said from the doorway. “I was the last one tested today.” He walked around the tables and slid a slip of parchment onto Severus’ desk. Severus could smell the heady scent of perspiration. “It’s a note from Tonks. She apologizes for going past schedule.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.” Severus stared expectantly at him. “Your robes, Mr. Potter?”

“Oh. Right. Robes.” Harry glanced at the robes hanging over his shoulder and muttered an apology. “Sorry about that.”

Severus watched as Harry struggled to pull on his robes over a pair of close-fitting black workout pants and a sleeveless grey t-shirt with wide armholes. Armholes generous enough to afford a view of a dusky nipple on a smooth chest as Harry pushed an arm into a robe sleeve.

Severus may have been staring at the tantalizing nipple, but the rest of the class was laughing. Severus blinked, then realized why they were laughing. The robes clearly did not fit Harry. He was trying to extricate himself from them now, an effort that required a good deal of squirming.

“I must have picked up Tonks’ robes by mistake,” he was explaining, voice muffled by the robes. Finally, he pulled them off. His hair was even more disheveled than normal and he was panting.

“Never mind. Leave them and be seated.”

Harry slid into an empty chair and dropped the robes across the back of it.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Severus shot him a warning glance, and Harry silenced himself and borrowed a quill and a sheaf of parchment from MacMillan.

It proved extremely difficult for Severus to concentrate on the lesson.

When Severus asked a question, he’d glance up at the raised arms, and instead of a scarlet sleeve he’d see a bare arm, a sculpted bicep, a shadowy glimpse of smooth chest. When class was over, Severus dismissed the students and Harry slung the ill-fitting robes over one shoulder and left with his friends, glancing at him and grinning. “Great class, Mr. Snape,” he said.

Severus simply nodded and watched the boy leave.

Mr. Snape. He’d corrected the first one who’d called him “Professor.” Still, Mr. Snape seemed stuffily formal. Mr. Snape sounded _old_. But there was nothing for it. There were no other appellations that would serve.

Severus spent the weekend catching up on his orders. He had to account for the afternoons away from his lab, so he spent all day Saturday brewing and decanting and on Sunday morning worked on his books. On Sunday afternoon, after he settled down on the sofa in his sitting room with a book and a strong cup of tea, he finally allowed himself to think about Harry Potter.

Severus knew that some of his acquaintances would call him selfish and self-serving. And indeed, Severus admitted being those things at times. But he also prided himself on being honest. Well, perhaps honest was not quite the word. He never entered into situations – relationships, contracts, commitments – with the intent to deceive. Deception might happen, but it was never premeditated. Severus considered this a grey area. If the party with whom he was dealing stepped out of line, deceived him first, or attempted to, all bets were off.

He had an idea that Harry Potter was not the kind of person to go about life with a hidden agenda. He had no reason to think that Potter was defiant – pursuing Snape because his father, or mother, or godfather told him to stay away. It seemed apparent that he didn’t have any preconceived notions about Severus from any of the Gryffindor adults in his life. He also had no reason to think Potter rebellious, a thrill-seeker. Indeed, he was young – no more than nineteen if his maths were solid – but he seemed to know what he liked. And what he liked was obviously male. And why wouldn’t he want Severus – or think he did? His mother, after all, had been fond of him for most of her childhood. Though, admittedly, never quite as fond of him as he had been of her. Was it really that unrealistic to think that the son could find the same things appealing about him that the mother once had?

He wondered if he should have told Potter a little more about his relationship with Lily. The boy was likely to hear it from her the first time he mentioned Severus to his family, and might show up at class on Monday distant and sullen, feeling foolish and betrayed, no longer interested in a man who’d once professed undying love to his mother. Would he think Snape wanted him as a substitute for the woman whom he’d desperately wanted- but could never have?

Would Lily dare to tell him Snape’s part in his conception?

He hadn’t thought of her - _deliberately_ hadn’t thought of her – for a dozen years or more. The distance between seventeen and thirty-nine was long indeed, and that pure, chivalric love he’d felt seemed to belong to another day, another lifetime. It was already waning when she’d come to him during their last term at Hogwarts, in love with James Potter, planning to marry him before the year was out.

Come to him with a tale he already knew – about James and a number of others at Hogwarts. The Potter line was dying. James Potter was the only child of only children, born when his parents were in their forties, many years into their marriage, when they had already given up hope of having children of their own.

Lily didn’t want that life for herself. She wanted to know – going into the marriage – what their chances of conceiving were. She had a special reason, he later learned, for wanting a child right away. And she had come to him – to Severus – tucking away her pride, to ask for help.

He remembered the pure, unadulterated love he had felt for Lily, how it had made his head spin, his brain fuzzy. But it felt nothing like the intensely physical pull in his gut when Harry Potter stretched an arm overhead, or pushed his spectacles up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, or licked the end of his quill.

He shouldn’t be fantasizing about that glimpse of tongue.

No. This was quickly getting out of hand.

But it wasn’t only that Potter was easy on the eyes. There were plenty of people whom Severus saw on nearly a daily basis who were attractive. The clerk at Slug & Jiggers, for example. The barmaid at the Muggle pub a few streets away from Spinner’s End. The owner of the owl delivery service he used – the very one who always initiated a conversation with him and who’d once invited him into his personal quarters to have a look at a painting he’d just purchased.

A few of the Auror trainees he was currently teaching were quite attractive as well.

But the real selling point, what made Potter stand out – past history with his parents aside – was that Potter was so obviously interested in _him_.

Or had been.

Well, there was nothing for it. Potter would speak to his parents – surely Black had already bent their ears. Potter would get an earful. And Potter would have to make a decision. At this point, it was totally out of Severus’ hands.


	7. How I Met Your Mother

On Monday, most of his students came into the classroom eating apples.

Harry Potter placed one on his desk.

“Matrici gave them out after tracking lessons today,” he said. “I grabbed an extra – thought you might like one, too.”

Severus glanced at the apple. It was large, plump and shiny, as if it had been deliberately buffed to a glow by the cuff of a robe sleeve.

“Thank you.” He hoped he sounded sincere. This simple gesture on Potter’s part was certainly a surprise. “I will save it for after class.” Potter nodded and took his seat. But Severus caught himself staring at the apple, which remained on the edge of the desk throughout the lesson, more than once during class, and wondered about it.

He’d set a quiz for them that day, ten questions, short answer. The students were allowed to leave after completing the quiz, each of them bringing his or her completed parchment up to him personally before leaving. Harry slid his quiz parchment across the desk, grazing his knuckles against Severus’ fingers.

“See you tomorrow, then,” he said quietly, then turned and left the room.

Severus only imagined he could feel the touch of those fingers long after Harry was gone.

He’d fallen into the habit of typing up loose ends before he left the Ministry training building each day, which allowed him to more fully focus on his potions work when he returned to his laboratory. Today, he stayed after to mark the quizzes. He made himself mark them in the order in which they were handed in.

Which made Harry Potter’s third from the last.

He ran through the quiz in short order, taking off two points for a misspelled word in the fourth answer, but allowing him full marks on the rest.

Harry had left a carefully printed note on the bottom of his quiz page.

“Spoke with my mum on Sunday. You said you and she weren’t friends. She begs to differ. How about coffee at that Muggle place across from the Leaky to discuss this further? Friday after class?”

Severus read the note again.

Was the universe smiling on him? Could this possibly be a reprieve? Harry had spoken to Lily, yet he still wanted to see him?

Severus stared at the apple on his desk.

He dipped his quill into the pot of apple-red ink, wrote Harry’s score on top of the quiz paper, and scrawled a quick answer on the bottom.

***

Harry sat in the Muggle coffee shop and looked around the room in semi wonder. He couldn’t quite believe he was here – waiting for Severus Snape to join him.

He’d left immediately after class, stripping off his robes to reveal the Muggle clothing he wore beneath them. He’d gone straight to their appointed meeting place and had managed to nab one of the few booths. He was sitting in it now, waiting for Snape. Elmyra had rushed up to speak with him after their Potions lesson ended, and Severus would have to finish with her and get out of his Wizarding robes before he could leave to meet Harry.

Harry blew across the surface of his coffee to cool it. He’d asked Snape to come here because he’d stopped in the café once on a rainy day and had found it attracted a lot of gay men. Not all of the clientele was gay, not by a long shot, but enough to make it noticeable. And Harry was hoping that eventually this would feel normal – sharing a booth in a cozy café with another man, asking another man out for coffee or dinner. He just couldn’t believe that he’d been the one to do the asking this first time around, and that the man he’d asked was twenty years older than he was.

He had finished his first cup and was working on a refill when Severus Snape slid into the booth across from him.

“Two pounds for a cup of coffee. Daylight robbery,” groused Snape, sounding very much like Sirius did when he felt like the world was conspiring against him.

Harry bit his bottom lip to smother a grin. He’d watched Snape enter the shop, order his coffee, add a good amount of cream, then make his way toward Harry through the maze of chairs and tables. So by the time Severus settled into the booth, he’d already had a good look at him in Muggle clothing.

He’d actually done pretty well, better than either Harry’s dad or Sirius when they went to Muggle establishments, and definitely better than Ron’s dad. Black trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, also black, and a buttoned waistcoat. He’d tied back his longish hair, too, making his nose look even more prominent, but it brought out his high cheekbones. His dad and Sirius tried to look _too_ Muggle and too young and ended up dressing like uni students. Forty-year-old uni students.

“You did extremely well today in class,” Severus said after taking a tentative sip of the hot coffee and glancing around the shop with vague lack of interest. “It was a difficult lesson.”

Harry neither shrugged off the compliment nor gloated. “Dad’s a Quidditch coach,” he said. “I’ve seen lots of injuries and triage. They have their own healers and medics on staff, and I’ve seen them at it enough to know the basics.”

Severus didn’t comment on James Potter’s profession. He assumed that he’d joined the Aurors with Black, and really had never thought about what else he might be doing these days. As for today’s lesson, it had involved prioritizing potions based on the physical assessment of a victim. They’d covered how different healing potions reacted with each other, which ones were not to be used in combination, and the order of use when they could be used together.

“Nonetheless, you are observant,” he told Harry with a small smile.

Harry smiled back and willed away a blush. He was more accustomed to blending into the crowd than to being singled out. He’d been solidly in the middle of the pack at Hogwarts when it came to academic performance. He’d just been lucky so far with this potions class.

“Thanks. It’s like problem-solving. I enjoy it.” Harry took another drink of coffee. He’d only been drinking it since he’d entered the academy, once he realized that it kept him alert longer than tea did when they had late night shadow duty with the senior Aurors.

They sat quietly together for several more minutes, each sipping his coffee and glancing around the shop.

“Is this a date?” Harry asked after the silence began to grow uncomfortable, even though he’d intended to say, “Thanks for meeting me here.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. He placed his cup carefully on the table. “A date?” he asked with the barest hint of a smile. “What is your definition of a date?”

Harry considered. “Two people getting together – maybe because they already like each other, maybe because they’re interested in getting to know each other better. Doing something fun – something they enjoy doing. But together.”

“You enjoy drinking coffee, then?”

“Yeah. Not very British of me, is it? My mum would be appalled. Should I have asked you out for tea and scones instead?”

Snape shook his head. “Coffee is fine. As is your definition of a date. However, I believe you had a specific purpose in asking me to come here this afternoon. Or was discussing your mother and myself only an excuse to get me here?” He caught Harry’s eyes and held them, challenging him.

Harry looked into his coffee and smiled. “Guilty as charged. Though I wouldn’t mind learning more about you two. Like why you said you weren’t friends but my mum says you were.”

“Certainly.” Snape relaxed marginally. Harry watched his shoulders lower a fraction. He fiddled with the handle of his coffee mug. “You asked if your father and I were friends. I said no. I never said your mother and I were not friends.” 

“I did….”

“You did not. I said you resembled your father, that you had your mother’s eyes. We had very little other conversation around your mother.”

Harry frowned. He didn’t remember the conversation precisely, and he had to admit that Snape was probably right. “You were friends then? Like she said?”

“We were. I met her when she was seven years old. We lived in the same neighborhood. We subsequently went to Hogwarts together. We had a parting of ways during our sixth year.”

His mum, what small part he could see of her through the international Floo connection, anyway, had looked thoughtful, and a bit nostalgic, when he’d asked her about Severus Snape. She’d given him as fair an account of their shared past as could be expected. But as she spoke, the nostalgia turned into something else, a sort of remembered bitterness, touched with regret. He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes, and it had given him pause. And when he had turned the conversation over in his head later, as he tried to fall asleep that night, he’d thought that the emotions didn’t quite add up, that there was something else she wasn’t telling him.

“You have learned that your mother and I have a past. If your interest in me has waned because of that, say so. I am not invested enough in you at this point to lose sleep over the matter.”

Harry had an idea that Severus wasn’t much for game playing and beating around the bush. He remained silent for a long moment. His interest certainly hadn’t waned. It had grown, if anything, even though Sirius was actively trying to warn him off. His godfather, in fact, had pulled him aside on Tuesday after Harry came in from Diagon Alley street patrol, asking him how Potions was going, whether Snape was behaving himself.

“Found out why he’s here,” Sirius had said. From the conversational, too-casual way he’d approached it, Harry suspected he’d known all along. He lowered his voice theatrically. “He was caught collecting potions ingredients in the Forbidden Forest. Had a nice little operation going – totally illegal, mind you. They let him off with a slap on his wrist providing he agreed to fill in for Maddington for six weeks. He thinks himself above the law, Harry. And you know that no one, not the Queen, not the Minister of Magic, not even Albus Dumbledore himself, is above the law.”

Harry had nodded, because Sirius expected him to nod, and because Sirius was looking at him the way he did when he _needed_ you to agree. Harry would agree, and Sirius would clap him on the shoulders, and suggest they go out for a pint on Saturday.

“I’m still interested,” Harry said at last, looking up at Snape as he spoke. He wondered why Snape had pulled back his hair. He looked older, more stern. “I still like you.” He smiled, and Snape almost smiled back. Harry counted it as a victory, even though the almost-smile was short-lived, and Snape soon turned it into a scowl.

“I was in love with your mother,” Snape said, startling Harry enough that he sputtered in his coffee. “Head over heels, arse over tit. We were friends. Best friends.” He stared at Harry as he spoke. This admission was nowhere on the list of things Harry expected he might hear. “It was difficult. I was sorted into Slytherin, she into Gryffindor. But we managed. Just.”

“You loved her,” Harry repeated. Snape loved – had loved – his mother. His _mother_. This must be the piece that hadn’t quite fit – that had kept him up that night after the Floo-call with him mum.

“I loved her.” Snape was gazing steadily at him, not wavering. “But she did not return that love, not in the way I desired. Eventually she started seeing your father. And that – that was too much for me.”

Harry thought there was quite a bit not being said, but honestly, he’d heard enough. Well, enough about Severus and his mum, anyway. He watched as Severus took a sip of his coffee, obviously finding it too cool for his liking. He made a move for his pocket, then thought better of performing a warming charm in the middle of a Muggle coffeehouse.

“Go and get a top up. I’ll wait.”

Severus sighed, but he slid out of his seat and headed for the counter. Harry watched him as he walked. Severus seemed totally at ease in this Muggle establishment and, even with his rather formal clothing, didn’t stand out any more than anyone else here.

_I was in love with your mother._

What the hell was he doing? Who in his right mind would date a man who’d just confessed he’d loved your mother? Could things possibly get any weirder than this?

But when Snape returned, Harry was ready with a question.

“So – that was – what? Twenty years ago? You’re over her, aren’t you?” He realized he sounded rather pathetic and obvious – and that what he was really asking Snape was if he was only interested in Harry as a replacement for Lily, or as a way to get back at her. She’d apparently broken his heart – he in turn could break her son’s.

Snape eyed him speculatively for a long moment. “Fortunately, broken hearts heal and I am alive and well and relatively unscathed by this early experience. I certainly do not hold it against _you_.” Snape had lowered his voice, and ended on a promising twitch of his lips.

“Mum liked you. I could tell.” Harry didn’t know he was going to say it until the statement was there, lying uncomfortably between them.

Snape swallowed. Nodded slightly. “We were inseparable as children. I was the first one ever to tell her about magic.” He smiled. “And your mother has convictions. I remember them well. She will have reservations, should we begin to see more of each other.”

“She told me something else,” said Harry, toying with a paper napkin. “She said you got over her pretty quickly…with Regulus Black.” He looked up after a moment when Snape didn’t respond, eyes asking the question he hadn’t voiced.

“Perhaps there is too much overlap in our lives already,” Snape said. “Pursuing this relationship any further would not be wise.”

“No – I mean, I don’t agree.” Harry reached out and brushed Snape’s hand resting warm against his mug. “I think Regulus suits you much better than my mum.”

“Hmmph. I haven’t seen Regulus for ten years or more.”

“Sirius deeded Grimmauld Place to him a few years ago. Have you ever been there?”

“Yes. Several times. Back in my school days.” Snape looked curious. “The house-elf heads…?”

“Gone. “

“Pity. I rather liked them,” Severus said with an exaggerated sigh.

Harry grinned. “They built a soundproof room around Mrs. Black’s portrait since they couldn’t unstick her. Everyone’s tried but no one’s ever succeeded.”

“Mrs. Black was not yet a portrait when last I visited,” Severus said. “But I assure you, she was intolerable in life, as well.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah, I bet.” He paused and twisted his coffee mug on the table. “I like Regulus,” he said. He chanced a look at Severus. “My mum. Regulus. You have good taste.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Do not tell me that you and he….”

Harry held up a hand. “Oh, no. No. Not like that. He’s got a partner – Ambrose – and he’s not really my type, anyway. Plus Sirius would murder him. But last summer, just after I graduated from Hogwarts, he and Ambrose did take me to a club.” Harry rolled his eyes. “They wouldn’t let anyone near me. Warned off everyone who tried. They even hemmed me in on the dance floor. They said they wanted me to get an idea of the insanity of the gay scene in London.”

“And…?” asked Snape, clearly interested.

“Well…it _was_ insane. Fun – but way too fast-paced for me. I’ve been lying low this year. There’s no time to meet people outside of work. They say next year will be a lot better. We’ve already had three recruits drop out. I think they’d like to weed us down to six. I need to be on my game and to be selected.”

“Ah.” Harry watched that odd half-smile grow on Snape’s face again. “How old are you, Harry?”

“Eighteen,” answered Harry unapologetically. “I’ll be nineteen next month.” He watched Severus study him for a few minutes. “Do you think I’m too young for you?”

“Age matters little to me,” answered Severus. “Am I too old for you?”

“You’re not old,” answered Harry. “And Ambrose is fifteen years older than Regulus. They both gave me the same advice – to figure out what I wanted, then go for it without reservation.”

Snape gave him a wry smile. “When Regulus gave you that advice, he had no idea that fate would throw us together.”

“You’re calling it fate?” asked Harry, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

“What would you call it?” Severus warmed his hands on his mug.

“Fate’s good,” said Harry. He stared at Severus’ hands as they wrapped around the cup, then spoke hesitatingly. “So – Regulus. Do you think he’d disapprove?”

“Not necessarily,” answered Severus. “Especially if Sirius does.” He relaxed a bit, leaning against the back of the booth and regarding Harry openly. “So, tell me about this Ambrose.”

“I’d rather talk about you,” said Harry. “How old are you?”

“In my thirties. Barely. As I am sure you can guess, knowing I went to school with your parents.”

“Are you bisexual?”

“Yes. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes.” Harry grinned at Snape. “Surprised?”

“No.”

“Pleased?”

“Perhaps.”

Harry tried to read Snape’s expression, but Snape was starting to pick up his things as if preparing to leave.

“So, you and Regulus had a thing. Did you ever want to shag Sirius, too?”

Snape’s face clouded over. “Do not repeat that. Ever.” His voice had an edge, but Harry let it go and continued to play with him. He loved bantering like this with Snape. It felt deliciously daring.

“Do you want to shag me, then?”

Snape didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back, regarding Harry with dark, calculating eyes. “Ask me again in four weeks,” he said at last.

Harry reached out and touched his wrist lightly as Snape stood to leave. “Oh, I will.”


	8. Passing Marks

Four weeks was no time at all.

Four weeks was forever.

Four weeks was time enough to consider – and reconsider. Time enough for another run-in or two with Black, to roll his eyes at his insinuations and respond to his threats with the resolve to carry this thing through.

This _thing._

This thing with Harry Potter.

Potter, who was not as attractive as Zabini, nor as bright as Mueller, nor as popular as Thomas, but who stood out nonetheless, who attracted Severus’ eye as if he were wearing Slytherin green instead of the dazzling scarlet uniform all the trainees wore.

Four weeks was enough time to change his mind about Potter and the wisdom of carrying this thing any further, then change his mind back again. To watch Potter. Potter, who should have blended in with the other trainees, who could have been any of them or all of them.

Except that he wasn’t.

The rest of them –even the Hansen girl – didn’t watch him like that. Didn’t quickly look down when he caught their eye. None of the others tried so hard to blend in while failing so miserably in doing so.

Four weeks was enough time for Severus to notice everything about Potter.

The way he rubbed his eyes underneath his spectacles, pushing them up with his knuckles. The expression on his face as he listened to one of his fellow trainees answer a question incorrectly, the almost-not-there, just-suppressed disapproval and impatience. His attentive posture– elbows on the table, hands clasped, leaning forward just a bit, feet crossed and back under his chair.

The chain around his neck – silver and braided – that slipped under the collar of his shirt. He wondered what pendant, what amulet, what charm, was on that chain, resting against Harry Potter’s heart.

The wide fingernails, shorter on the right hand than the left. The thin lips on a mouth only remarkable in its inexperience, but intriguing, entrancing, nonetheless.

In another world, with another past, he might have overlooked this young man altogether. But once his attention was caught, once his appetite was whetted, he could not stop looking.  
He’d overheard Potter arguing with Black in a side corridor one Friday, on a day he’d arrived especially early. Black was loud. “It IS my business with your parents away in South America.” “…someone your own age…” “…too young to know what you want!”

Potter had been even more attentive than usual in class that day.

During the last week of class, Tonks came in to observe.

The trainees didn’t see her enter and stand beside the door, leaning against the wall where Black had stood that first day. Severus acknowledged her only with his eyes and the slightest of nods, and continued on as he had begun.

But Tonks didn’t watch him.

Tonks watched _Harry_ watching him.

She left before class ended, slipping out without a sound or a word, but ducked in again when the trainees had all gone.

“You’re Tonks,” he said when she approached his desk. He stood and extended a hand to her.

“Remus sends his regards,” she said casually, eying the three bottles of clear potion on the desk.

“Does he?” answered Severus, sarcasm only thinly veiled.

She laughed. She had a pleasant voice. “They’ve all warned me about you,” she said. “Even Peter, little rat that he is. I don’t pay any attention to Sirius. He can’t see Harry as anything other than a miniature James.”

“Miniature?” Severus had continued marking the day’s quizzes while she spoke, but he looked up now, scoffing. “Has James Potter grown, then?”

“Younger, then,” she corrected. “He looks at Harry and sees James. James is all grown up now and can’t – or won’t – gallivant around town with him so he’s turned his sights on Harry.” She paused, shrugged. “Remus spoke with James a few days ago. He says that Lily is worried. She thinks you’ll break his heart – she feels you’re far too intense for Harry.”

Snape scooted his chair back and carefully replaced the stopper on the ink jar. “Rather convenient they’re on the other side of the world, then.”

“Hmmm.” She sat on Severus’ desk and watched as he arranged parchment in a pile. “What’s your assessment of the trainees, Snape? We’re down to nine and are hoping to promote six or seven.”

“Crabbe is a joke. Hansen is the weakest of the rest. She further annoys me with her overt flirtation. Zabini is the strongest all around. Finch-Fletchley does not want to be an Auror. Ask him yourself.”

Tonks had swiveled on the desk to stare at him. She looked surprised at his spot-on assessment.

“And Harry?” she asked, when Severus returned to his packing up.

“He will pass, be promoted, and soon realize that another career will suit him better.”

She had the audacity to smile. “The average length of time an Auror stays with the Ministry is nine years.”

“That long?” Severus started to stand.

“What do you think Harry will do, then?” Tonks asked, standing up herself. “If one day he decides he doesn’t want to be an Auror after all?”

“I’ve no idea. I do not know him better than he knows himself, and he still believes he wants to be an Auror.”

“You’re much more perceptive than I expected,” said Tonks as they walked together toward the door. “But then again, I’ve learned that the Mauraders act first and ask questions later, and they rarely really think.” She paused, then turned to face him. Her eyes were serious. “Don’t hurt Harry.”

He stopped and looked at her in surprise. “You’re giving me your blessing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Harry doesn’t need my blessing, or my permission. Or anyone’s, for that matter.” She looked him in the eye. “I wasn’t much older than Harry is now when I started seeing Remus. And everyone had an opinion about that – my parents included. I’d wager he’s a good bit more dangerous than you.”

Severus cast a sidelong glance at her as they walked.

“If I can handle a full-grown werewolf, I’m fairly certain Harry can handle a sarcastic Potions master who ignores Private Property – No Trespassing signs.”

They reached the foyer and Tonks headed down the corridor to the workout rooms.

Snape watched her go, wondering if she had intended the double meaning.

***

Severus ended the Auror trainees’ six-week Potions curriculum with one-on-one oral tests.

He scheduled Harry’s last.

He was getting antsy. He was relieved to be done with the teaching assignment, which had not turned out as badly as he’d anticipated, and was anxious to get back to his potions.

And he was looking forward to moving things forward with Harry. The conversation with Tonks had done nothing but make him want it that much more. Tonks had been unexpected – and the parallels with the risks she took in entering a relationship with a werewolf, and his in entering a veritable lion’s den, were more than apt.

The oral examinations had gone fairly well. Of the trainees, only Crabbe was failing. He’d scheduled Crabbe’s first, wanting to make sure he wasn’t biased by the others’ responses. However, there was simply no hope for the boy – he was as dull and as dim as his father.

Severus shook his head. Crabbe had no idea he owed his very existence to him. Crabbe’s father had been one of four men to test the potion he’d created before he delivered it to Lily. Three of the four had become fathers within a year. He’d been discreet in gathering up volunteers– almost without need. Infertility in wizards was such a common affliction in the old pure-blood families that he’d have had a line out the door if he’d advertised for test subjects.

He’d been paid a nice sum by Lucius Malfoy to keep his involvement in the project secret – even from his own wife. Those Galleons had gone to new, top-of-the line cauldrons and brewing equipment.

He only had two more exams to give and he’d be done with this sentence and ready to move things along with Potter. Mueller was second to last, and Potter came in just after, and slid into the chair opposite Severus.

“Can I see you tomorrow night?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “It’s traditional for the instructor to ask the questions in an oral examination,” he said. Harry looked down at his hands. “Describe the properties of the Dragonhide potion.”

“Dark green, almost black. Smells of sulfur. Oily surface. Dinner then?”

“One more characteristic, please.”

“The properly prepared potion smokes during the decanting process.”

Severus raised his eyes slowly, giving Harry what he hoped was an expressionless stare. “And?”

“The smoke is charcoal grey in colour.” Severus nodded and jotted a note on the parchment before him. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Today is too soon to discuss this,” Severus answered. He shot out another question. Harry struggled a bit with the answer, but gave something marginally acceptable.

“I love your hands,” Harry said, very quietly, as Severus clasped them together.

“Mr. Potter…” Severus’ voice held a warning.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t help….” He trailed off and swallowed. Severus stared at the column of Harry’s throat, watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“Three indications that your assailant has taken Polyjuice Potion.”

“Ill-fitting clothing, clumsiness or awkward movement.”

“One more.”

He stared at Harry, looking his fill, as he stumbled for an answer. “Something with the voice?”

They went back and forth for ten more minutes. Finally Severus folded his hands, pushed the examination paper to the side, and asked, “As an Auror, what would you do if you found me collecting potions ingredients in the Forbidden Forest?”

Harry stared, managing to look both intrigued and uncomfortable. “You really did it, then? That’s why you’re here?”

Severus didn’t comment. He tapped his fingers on the desk. “Would you arrest me?”

“Yes.” Harry managed to sound definitive. “But I’d visit you in prison,” he added helpfully.

The stared at each other a long moment, then Severus looked down.

“You believe strongly in the law?”

Harry shrugged. “Upholding the law is my job. Are you planning to break it again?”

Severus was quite aware that neither one of them had answered the other’s question.

“Coffee on Sunday afternoon. Three o’clock.”

“Same place?”

Severus nodded.

“Are we finished, then?” asked Harry. “With the test, I mean?”

“We are. Congratulations, Mr. Potter. Passing marks.”


	9. Come Up to My Lab

Dressing for a date shouldn’t be this difficult.

Ron sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed, the Quidditch section of the _Daily Prophet_ open on his lap.

“Looks like Uruguay and Brazil are up tonight, and Argentina and Panama on Tuesday.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m going to be in Buenos Aires next weekend. You dad’s great, Harry.”

Harry was holding two shirts. “Where’s your sister when I need her?” he groused.

“Ginny? I’d say studying for her N.E.W.T.s. What’s the problem?” He pulled his eyes away from the Quidditch scores and looked at his flatmate. “The one on the left.”

Harry stared at the two shirts and dropped the one Ron had chosen on the bed and slipped on the other one.

“He doesn’t care what you wear, Harry. You said appearances weren’t important to him.”

“I said _his_ appearance wasn’t important to _me_ ,” corrected Harry. “I mean, I said I didn’t like him for his appearance.” He dropped down to his knees and reached under his bed for a boot. “I still want to look good for him. This is our first date.”

“Mate, it’s your first real date _ever_ with a bloke.”

Harry lifted his head up and stared over the end of the bed at Ron. “Thanks for reminding me. I wasn’t nervous enough already.”

“Well, besides that last time you went out for coffee with him.”

“Right. This is different. Where’s my belt?”

“Oops. Borrowed it last week when Hermione and I went out with her parents.” He groped in his pocket for his wand.

“Accio Harry’s belt,” said Harry, before Ron had extracted his wand. The belt – and the trousers Ron had worn to dinner – shot into his hand a moment later.

“You’re a mess, Ron,” said Harry, tossing the trousers, which were still tangled with a pair of Y-fronts, at his friend, and sliding his belt into the loops of his black jeans.

“Just give me plenty of notice before you bring him back here,” said Ron. “I’ll need a week to clean up.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t have any intention of bringing him back here until you’re over in Argentina. And I’ll borrow Kreacher from Regulus and Ambrose before I do.”

“Oh great. I’ll be sure to let Hermione know so she can come over and get all the blood traitor insults for me. Well, except that she’s Muggle-born, so he’ll just call her a mud…”

“Stop - you know how I feel about that word, Ron.”

Ron folded up the paper and climbed off the bed, throwing his tangled trousers and pants over his shoulder. “Right. Well – have fun tonight, Harry. And since your mum and dad aren’t here to give you the talk, I’ll tell you what my dad told all of us. ‘Keep your wand in your trousers, young man.’”

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. “First date, remember?”

The nerves that had plagued him all day – no, all weekend – dissipated within minutes of sliding into the coffee shop and taking a seat opposite Severus.

Severus looked much the same as he had a month ago in this very spot, though he’d forgone the waistcoat this time. His hair was pulled back, and he had a hot coffee and blueberry muffin waiting on the table for Harry.

“Thanks – this is great.” Harry gratefully took a sip of coffee, glancing around at the other patrons, then back at Severus. “So, tell me about your potions business.” He hoped that didn’t sound as awkward as he thought it might when he’d thought up the question as he was getting ready.

“I prepare custom potions for a select clientele,” answered Severus. Harry thought he looked comfortable, much more comfortable than he had a month before. “And I provide the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a subset of controlled potions under a special licensing arrangement. And I do research – to develop new potions and improve existing ones.” He blew across his coffee to cool it. Harry stared at Severus’ mouth, watched his lips as he took a drink of coffee.

“I told Regulus I was meeting you,” Harry said. “He said to tell you hullo.” He smiled as Severus stared at him. “I think he must approve. He didn’t warn me off or anything.”

“Ahh.” Severus shifted in his seat. “Please return the greeting when you see him again.”

“I will.” Harry broke off a piece of muffin. “Do you want some of this? It’s enormous.”

Severus shook his head. “Eat it. You’re not in a hurry to get anywhere, are you?”

“Maybe back to your place,” Harry muttered, smiling into his coffee as he took another drink.

“Cheeky,” said Severus. But he smiled, too. “Though you did once ask for a tour of my laboratory.”

They sat there together another half hour, talking while their coffee cooled. Harry had loved Severus’ classroom voice, but here, in this more intimate setting, he loved Severus’ dark expressive eyes and the minute changes in his face that would convey a hundred and one different expressions with a twitch of the lips or a lift of a single eyebrow.

“I love your hands,” Harry said, out of the blue, reaching out to brush his fingers against Severus.’ “I loved watching them in class.”

Severus surprised him by grasping his wrist, holding it tightly. Harry could feel his own pulse pounding as Severus moved his thumb softly over his pulse point. He stared at where their hands were joined, watching Severus’ thumb trace circles on his skin. This – this would be the time to kiss….

Oh.

There were lips on his. Soft and warm, pressing lightly, a moist tongue lightly tracing the seam of his mouth.

The lips were gone almost before he could react.

Severus stood up.

“The tour starts now,” he said.

He dropped Harry’s wrist and took his hand instead, and Harry laced their fingers together as they made their way out onto the street.

It was only a short walk to the Leaky, where they queued up to use the Public Floo. Harry followed Severus, calling out “Spinners End” as he dropped the Floo powder in the flames.


	10. Benefits of a Young Lover

Severus caught him as he stumbled out onto the hearth and immediately pulled him into another kiss.

The second kiss was better than the first. With his fingers around Harry’s wrist, it had seemed the easiest, most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss him. If Harry had been surprised to receive that kiss, Severus had been more so to have initiated it.

And now they were standing in the middle of his sitting room, his hands framing Harry’s face, Harry’s own hands tight around Severus’ waist. The soft press of lips, the brush of a tongue, the barest hint of teeth.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since you sat down,” Severus said as he worked his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” said Harry. His eyes were darting around the room now, taking in the walls of books, the comfortable, worn furniture that Severus had never bothered to replace, that had always been here at Spinner’s End.

“Greedy thing,” Severus said. He had no interest in continuing a charade, in giving Harry a tour of his lab. He did, however, have every interest in the world in having a lapful of Harry. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, but he’d successfully tempered his libido for the entirety of the Potions course and was more than ready to take this relationship a step or two forward.

He kissed Harry again, only one hand on his neck this time, the other sliding comfortably over his shoulders and down his back. A backward step and he was sinking onto the sofa, Harry coming down with him to neatly straddle his thighs. Harry shifted, aroused, undoubtedly unsure of protocol when one found oneself straddling another man. He solved the problem himself, leaning forward to devour Severus’ mouth yet again.

Harry might be a virgin, Severus thought, but this definitely wasn’t his first kiss. He knew his way around the mouth, but lacked the subtlety, the finesse, that came with more experience.

But what he lacked in experience, in finesse, Harry made up in enthusiasm. And he was, to Severus’ satisfaction, unapologetic about his inexperience, nuzzling his neck, breathing kisses onto his jaw line. “Is this what you like, Severus? Tell me what to do. Tell me if you like this.” Lips fastened on the lobe of his ear, then moved down onto his neck. Severus’ hands circled Harry’s hips, pulled him more tightly to him. He could feel the boy’s erection and, as Harry kissed his mouth again, Severus worked one hand between them and traced the outline of the shaft with his fingertips.

Harry groaned into his mouth and shifted to accommodate him when Severus pulled at the button on his jeans, then worked down the zip. He gripped Harry’s cock as Harry’s lips stopped working his, as Harry’s breath came faster, in shaky pants, in a whispered _Oh god oh god oh god_ , as Harry’s fingers dug into his shoulders, scrabbled blindly over his back.

It wasn’t enough, not enough to feel him, the hard length, the hot breath, the scratch of nails on his back. He turned on the sofa, pressing Harry back and down onto the cushions, pulling jeans and smalls down slim hips, then going down on the exposed cock before Harry could possibly know what was about to happen.

“Fuck. Fuck. You’re sucking me. Shit. That’s good. Good.”

Ah. The boy was a talker. Severus was inordinately pleased. He could easily become accustomed to the profanities, the pleas, the whispered susurrations. Harry drew his knees up, pressed his thighs in against Severus’ head. Every one of his instinctive reactions was erotic, provocative. Fingers came up to card through his hair. “Fuck, Severus. I’m not going to last….”

Even as he said it he raised himself up on his elbows, watching, Severus knew, with eyes heavy with lust, as Severus finished him off, cockhead deep in his mouth, pushing against his palate, bringing his fingers up to cup the tightening bollocks. He didn’t warn Severus when he was close, nor presume that Severus would _not_ swallow him down. Instead, he kept his hands in Severus’ hair, his eyes on his face, and cried out as he came, squeezing his thighs together, mouth dropping open as Severus swallowed, then biting his lip, eyes closed, low moan rumbling in his chest, as Severus pulled off his cock and rested his head on the juncture of hip and thigh.

They lay together on the sofa, and Severus crawled up to lie across Harry, and Harry pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder.

“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” he said. His hand scrabbled down between them until he found Severus’ erection, caressing it through his trousers. The fingers wandered up to the closure, undoing it after several attempts. Severus rolled onto his side against the back of the sofa and slid his trousers down, baring cock and bollocks and watching Harry as he stared, then reached out to graze fingers softly from crown to base. He glanced at Severus’ face.

“I’ve never….”

Severus shifted, then reached out for Harry and drew him down into another kiss, slow and deep, rutting slowly and rhythmically up against him, rolling their groins together.

“You don’t have to suck me,” he said, breaking the kiss.

“I thought you’d want to – fuck me,” Harry said, stumbling over the words. He sounded both eager and afraid, as if he wanted it more than he could express yet still dreaded it with all his being.

Severus buried his head in Harry’s neck and began to unbutton his shirt. He pushed it down when he had it loosened and ran his tongue along the shoulder, then bit into it lightly and laved the bruise with his tongue.

“Oh, I want to fuck you,” Severus breathed, moving his tongue down to Harry’s clavicle, then kissing up his neck. “But that’s something we need to work up to. And I think –” He pressed a finger against the nipple outlined through Harry’s shirt, then squeezed it between thumb and forefinger. Harry keened and arched his back. “I think I’d like you to fuck me first – when the time comes.”

Harry’s mouth claimed his almost before he could speak again. Severus kissed him back and pressed up against him with his erection. “God, Severus. I’m going to be hard again before you’ve even come.”

“A benefit of having a young lover.”

Harry kissed him again, then breathed into his neck, panting. “What do you want? What do you want me to do?”

Severus undid the remaining buttons on Harry’s shirt, then ran his fingers down lightly over his chest. Harry was trim, lightly muscled, with only a dusting of chest hair. “You choose – you can use your hand, or watch me masturbate.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. Fuck. Yeah.” He kissed Severus again. “I’d like that – let me watch you this time, Severus. Let me see what you like.” He slid back while Severus spread himself out on his back, then straddled Severus’ thighs, his softening cock and bollocks resting on Severus’ legs. “Like this?”

“Lean your weight forward a bit,” Severus said as he slid one hand over his prick and brushed the other lightly over Harry’s cock. Harry shuddered, gripping Severus’ thighs more tightly with his knees, watching Severus’ hand squeeze his hardened flesh, sliding up and around the head and twisting back down.

“You like it slow,” Harry said, watching him. He shifted as Severus stretched his legs, extending his calf muscles as his arousal grew. “You’re drawing it out.”

“I’m drawing it out because I’m masturbating with Harry Potter sitting on my thighs,” Severus answered. His voice was low and rough. “Sitting here on top of me instead of behind that wretched table in the classroom.” His hand continued its up and down movements, pausing each time it squeezed the crown, each time his legs tightened and he bit his lower lip. Severus kept his eyes open even as he stretched his neck, focusing on Harry’s face.

And Harry stared at Severus, biting his own bottom lip, rhythmically clenching and unclenching his legs and arse, having no idea in the world how utterly arousing his natural movements were to Severus.

“Do you like to touch your bollocks when you wank?” Harry asked, voice low. He was either being deliberately seductive or cloyingly innocent. He reached forward tentatively, grazed his fingers lightly over Severus’ balls. Severus thrust up, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Not wanking,” breathed Severus. “You wank when you are in a hurry.” He reached forward with one hand and caressed Harry’s cock again, then slipped his fingers beneath the heavy bollocks and lifted them, working his middle finger down until he could press it upward against the perineum. “We’re not in a hurry, are we?” He smiled as Harry’s breath caught, as he squeezed Severus’ thighs even more tightly with his own.

“Fuck – Severus,” Harry half-moaned. “That’s … that’s really good….”

“Look at my cock, Harry,” Severus said in a low voice. Harry’s eyes moved downward, fixing on the long-fingered hand working over Severus’ cock. “I’m going to fuck you with this one day. Do you think you can take it? Look at it.” His hand slid down, pulling the foreskin back further. “I’m going to bury this all the way in your sweet arse.”

The finger on Harry’s perineum moved backward and into his crease, grazing over him lightly. Harry moaned and jerked, bending forward reflexively to give Severus even more access.

“Fuck – Severus – yeah. You should do it now. Fuck me now.” He moved one hand to his own cock, which had recovered at an unprecedented speed, and pressed down against Severus’ hand as he began stroking himself.

“No. Not yet. We have many other things – to do first,” Severus said, panting as he moved his hand in tandem with Harry’s. His finger, still grazing back and forth in Harry’s crease, pressed upward a bit more, working in a small fraction, then pulling out, the pad caressing the rim once again.

Harry keened.

The sound was liquid sex to Severus, streaming into his pores and pooling in his groin. He sped up his strokes, feeling his bollocks tighten, watching Harry’s hand on his own prick, looking up at Harry’s sex-clouded eyes, and just as he was about to spill, to fall over the edge, he pushed his finger deliberately up to the knuckle inside Harry and crooked it forward.

Harry came with a throttled shout only a pulse or two ahead of Severus. His release was sparse, but it shot out onto Severus’ hand, and when Severus came a moment later, he rubbed Harry’s come in with his own, then, unapologetically, pulled the boy down on top of him.

Harry kissed him hard, and Severus rolled to his side, pinning Harry against the back of the sofa.

“I could become accustomed to this,” he breathed, kissing Harry’s neck.

“I could stick around and study until you’re up for another round.”

“Harry Potter the sex god,” quipped Severus.

“I’ve got a lot to learn,” Harry said. He leaned in and kissed the corner of Severus’ mouth, then ran his tongue along the seam of his lips and kissed the other corner. “Like how to give you head. And how to do that thing you did with your finger … in me.”

“I’ll have all my fingers in you before I fuck you,” Severus said. He slid his hands down to Harry’s arse, squeezed his cheeks, pulling them apart suggestively, then pressing them back together. “But all in good time. It’s not all about sex.”

“It’s not?” Harry bit Severus’ ear lightly, then kissed his jaw. “You’re sure about that?”

“No. Sex is infinitely better when there’s an emotional attachment, a sense of trust, a -”

“I trust you.”

“Good. Trust is needed in general, not just in bed.”

“We’re not in bed.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You do have a bed, don’t you?”

Severus scoffed. “Of course I have a bed. It’s in my bedroom where it belongs.”

Harry grinned back at him. “Well, if two orgasms are all I’m getting today, how about that tour you promised me?”

“The tour that was the excuse to get in my house so we could have sex?”

“We didn’t have sex.” Harry pushed himself up on one elbow and started to crawl over Severus.

Severus grabbed him around the middle and pulled him back down. “I don’t know who taught you the definition of sex, but what we just did was – very decidedly – sex.”

“You know what I mean,” Harry said. He succeeded in getting off the sofa this time, and managed to get his clothes put to rights before he sat back down at Severus’ feet. Severus stretched, digging his toes against Harry’s thigh. He’d lost his shoes, or kicked them off, sometime in the last half hour. He was relaxed now, languid, and in no hurry of moving.

“Perhaps.” He watched as Harry studied the room, eyes moving from the bookshelf to the fireplace to the doorways leading to the kitchen and small loo.

“You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?” Harry asked after a time. He looked back at Severus. “Most of these books haven’t been touched in years.”

“Most of my life, actually. I grew up here. My parents both died while I was doing my Potions mastery. I inherited the house from them.” He pulled his feet around and sat up with a groan, then performed a quick cleaning charm and tucked himself back in casually, buttoning up his trousers. He stood and tucked in his shirt, pausing as he looked at Harry, who looked – uncomfortable? “What?”

“Well – I’m sorry is all. If they died while you were still doing your mastery – you must have been young. Not much older than I am now.”

Severus nodded quickly, not wanting to discuss his parents’ early demise, or for that matter, to discuss his parents at all. His memories of them were cloudy at best, unpleasant at worst. “I was nineteen when my father died – my mother died two years later. They’ve both been gone a long time.”

Harry studied him a moment, then wisely let the matter drop. He stood. “Show me around, then?” he asked.

Severus nodded. “Come – let’s start with the lab.”


	11. Shades of Grey

“But it’s the law,” protested Harry. “Breaking the law for personal gain is wrong.”

Severus looked at Harry as they walked side by side in Diagon Alley. Severus was carrying a shopping bag of ingredients and supplies he’d just purchased in an only-moderately-shady Knockturn Alley establishment. A week had passed since Harry had had his first look at Severus’ place, and with Ron having left that morning for South America, Harry had invited Severus to his flat to spend the evening together.

“Interesting,” Severus commented. “Isn’t breaking any law for any reason wrong?”

“No. Not at all.” Harry didn’t hesitate in his response, but he didn’t explain his rationale either. “But creating a dangerous, banned potion and selling it for personal gain – no question about it. It’s wrong.”

“What if it saves someone’s life?”

Harry frowned. “I’m not sure a dangerous, banned potion _could_ save someone’s life.”

“Of course it could.”

“Alright,” Harry said. They were already approaching the Leaky Cauldron. Severus was a fast and deliberate walker, never wasting time dawdling or peering into windows. “For instance?”

“For instance – there is a very useful potion that can restore eyesight in many cases of blindness caused by disease or accidents. Unfortunately, a key ingredient in the potion is the shell from the immature egg of an extremely rare species of magical bird, which nests only near Aberdeen, on the North Sea. The egg must be harvested before the chick inside is fully developed. Yet the bird is protected, as, of course, are its eggs.”

“Blindness doesn’t kill you, Severus. Is this potion the only option?”

“For blindness, yes. There are treatments for diseases of the eye while eyesight remains – some of them more successful than others. All of them require continued use throughout the course of one’s life, and all of them have negative side effects.”

“So, the only known cure for blindness requires that you steal an egg from beneath a protected bird, use the shell to make the potion and kill the baby bird inside in the process.”

“Exactly,” answered Severus. “So – is the creation of this potion ever justified?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s justified. It’s not legal.” Harry stopped outside the magical archway leading to the Leaky Cauldron. “If my dad was losing his eyesight, and this potion promised him a cure, I might be desperate enough to steal an egg for the potion. But it wouldn’t make it legal, and I would expect and deserve the consequences if I were caught.”

Severus narrowed his gaze. “You would consider doing this?” he said. “Or anything illegal, for that matter, to save someone you loved?”

Harry frowned. “I really don’t know. Saving my dad’s eyesight isn’t the same as saving my dad, is it? I’m not convinced there are all that many examples of what you were talking about – dangerous potions made from banned ingredients that could save someone’s life.”

Severus was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, he’d lowered his voice. “There are other potions that do not save life – yet are equally life-altering. Life creating, in fact.”

Harry shrugged. “Sounds dark to me,” he said. But he let it drop at that, and Severus took it as a sign not to continue.

They walked together into the Leaky, going straight through the pub and removing their outer robes as they walked. They emerged on the London street, draping their robes over their arms, blending in with the always diverse mix of people on Charing Cross Road. “But are you willing to admit that there are other useful ingredients that are nearly impossible to procure without one penalty or another? Highly controlled items that, because of their rarity and desirability, _encourage_ trespassers and poachers?”

Harry took Severus’ hand as they made their way to Harry’s flat.

“Look – I made a vow to protect the law, even those laws I don’t particularly like. But honestly, Severus, do you expect me to believe you were poaching ingredients in the Forbidden Forest because you needed something for a potion to save someone’s life and you could only get the ingredient there?”

Severus laughed. Harry grinned and squeezed his hand.

“No. I hardly expect that.” He couldn’t tell Harry the truth – that he was collecting the rare Madcap mushroom used in the fertility potion that had resulted in his very existence. He’d promised Lily all those years ago that he’d hold his tongue on this matter and, even with these altered circumstances, the time wasn’t yet right. But he could get close. “I was caught gathering a specific variety of mushroom that is extremely difficult to procure elsewhere. The mushroom has known aphrodisiacal and enhancement properties and is used in a virility potion that is highly desired by a certain segment of my clientele. It’s a lucrative potion, and funds a great deal of my more important research.”

Though of late, he couldn’t discount the importance of the research all those years ago for the fertility potion which used the same mushrooms.

Harry grinned and rolled his eyes. “Enhancement properties? I’ll be sure to tell Sirius about that one for when he’s older.”

Severus nearly shuddered. The thought of Sirius Black using his potion was horrifying – even more so the idea of Black with progeny. “I discovered this particular mushroom in a grove in the Forbidden Forest while I was a student at Hogwarts. That forest is full of places like this – with rare and potent ingredients that rot back into the earth when they aren’t harvested. And surely you understand that picking mushrooms does not destroy the underlying fungus.”

“True – but opening it up to collectors without firm regulations in place could destroy the forest. And we don’t have the resources to patrol the entire thing, Severus. You know that. How long were you collecting there before you were caught?”

 _Twenty years._ But he didn’t answer out loud. “The main reason the forest is off limits is that it, along with Hogsmeade Village and the black lake, form a buffer around Hogwarts School. Wizarding Britain protects its magical children with fire and brimstone, not to mention a forest chock full of forbidding magical creatures.”

“Wait.” Harry checked his post and pocketed what looked like a couple of bills. “Are you saying the reason the creatures are there in the first place is to protect Hogwarts?”

“Chicken and egg,” responded Severus. “Whether the creatures were always there or not is not relevant to our discussion.”

Harry shrugged. “Alright. But you said it yourself – the Forbidden Forest is full of magical creatures – many of them dangerous. _That’s_ why the Ministry doesn’t give out gathering or hunting permits. Centaurs, unicorns, thestrals, hippogriffs, acromantulas, Blast-Ended Skrewts – ”

“Blast-Ended what?” Severus followed Harry to the stairway. “I’ve never heard of such a creature.”

“Well, they’re not supposed to be there. They’re not supposed to exist at all, really.” Harry looked right and left, then pressed his hand against his door. It glowed briefly, then the lock snicked open. “Do you know Hagrid?”

“Rubeus Hagrid? The groundskeeper?”

“Yeah – that one.” Harry flicked his wand at the cooker. The kettle slid over onto the back burner. “He’s a friend of Mum and Dad’s – used to watch out for me my first couple of years, especially when I started playing Quidditch when I was a firstie. Anyway, he bred these – ”

“They’ve changed the Quidditch rules?” Severus stood in the corridor outside Harry’s bedroom. Surprisingly, the bed was made and the room practically sparkled.

“No - still supposed to wait until you’re in second year,” Harry answered. “I was just really good at Seeking and Gryffindor’s Seeker was a seventh-year and they didn’t have anyone as a back-up. So McGonagall pushed it through and got me on as a reserve. I didn’t play in any games – but I got to train with the seventh-year Seeker.”

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“That’s hardly fair.”

Harry shrugged. “Turns out any of the Heads of House can petition the headmaster. McGonagall just found the rule in some dusty old rulebook. Since she started it, they all do it.”

“But that rule is in place as a safety precaution,” Severus said.

“I was eleven, Severus. I was being offered the chance to be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than flying. And besides – I was trying to tell you about Hagrid and the Skrewts.”

“Skrewts,” repeated Severus, trying the word out on his tongue and frowning. He’d walked into the kitchen and was preparing the tea tray, and Harry came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, kissing his neck.

“Skrewts,” confirmed Harry. “Blast-Ended Skrewts.”

“Do enlighten me,” Severus said dryly, pressing back into Harry.

“Well – Hagrid was the Care of Magical Creatures professor for a few years while I was at Hogwarts,” Harry began, “and –” 

“ _Hagrid_ was your _professor_?” Severus turned and stared at Harry. “Hagrid? Big brute of a man? Ten feet tall? Carries his lunch around in his beard? _That_ Hagrid?”

“Stop it.” Harry tightened his arms around Severus, laughing. “Yes, _that_ Hagrid. He was a good tea –”

Severus glared. “He was a _lenient_ teacher, you mean.”

“Fine. He was an adequate teacher – no worse than Trelawney. And his class was a lot more interesting than Divination.”

“I’ll give you that one. So – skrewts?” Severus arched an eyebrow.

“He crossed manticores and fire-crabs and came up with Blast-Ended Skrewts. Armoured mutants – they shoot out sparks, have massive stings and grow to at least ten feet long. It’s hard to tell their heads from their tails, too. A few of them escaped into the Forbidden Forest. They’re extremely hard to kill and certainly not pleasant to be around. Fortunately, they don’t appear to be able to reproduce.”

“How do you kill them?” asked Severus. “Cut off their heads, if you can determine which end is which?”

“You know, I really, really like you,” Harry returned. He wrapped an arm around Severus’ neck and drew him down into a slow kiss. “Are you thinking you can use the skrewts for potions ingredients? Because if you are, there’s not an Auror alive who will stop you from hunting them in the Forbidden Forest, and while you’re there, you can pick some of those mushrooms.”

Severus let himself fall into the kiss, working one hand into Harry’s hair as the other worked lower and squeezed his arse.

“How long will Ronald be in South America?” he asked a few minutes later. They’d moved into the sitting room with their tea and were sitting together on the sofa.

“Two more weeks,” Harry responded. He looked around the flat. “I could get used to this place being clean.”

Severus shook his head. “I sincerely doubt that Ronald contributes more to the entropy here than you do.” He glanced at the bookshelves – the books were arranged in a precise tallest-to-shortest order. He squinted. No, the books weren’t categorized in any way but by size. The items on the mantel were meticulously placed. The hardwood floors shone so brightly he could practically see his reflection. The kitchen appliances _gleamed._ He turned to Harry, glaring without malice. “This is the work of a house-elf, and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

Harry looked around the room then shrugged, not looking at all apologetic. “Rather obvious, isn’t it? I told Kreacher and Dobby not to overdo it, but they were so excited at how horribly filthy this place was that they couldn’t help themselves.”

Severus set his mug on the table and turned to face Harry.

“In the last hour, several topics have arisen that have allowed me insight into your extremely complex ethical code.”

“Oh?” Harry scooted his back up against the end of the sofa and pressed his toes against Severus’ trouser-clad thigh.

“You were willing to take a position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team even though you were too young as per the school rules.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I was eleven. Eleven, Severus. And my Head of House went through the appropriate channels to get an exception. I wasn’t breaking any rules. There was already a process in place – I didn’t make the rule or the exception.”

Severus leveled a stare at him. Harry smiled. “Come on, Severus. You seriously don’t think you can judge my moral code based on me getting on the Gryffindor team early, do you? I was far too young to refuse to play with Gryffindor because it was technically against the rules.”

“Fine.” Severus conceded that one, albeit reluctantly. “Then allow me to continue. There is also the matter of Hagrid and his Blast-Ended Skrewts. You said he bred a manticore with a fire-crab. You are aware – I am one hundred percent convinced that you are – that such breeding is strictly regulated in Wizarding law? The creation of new magical creatures by the breeding of two different magical creatures, or one magical creature and one non-magical creature?”

“Of course I am. We go after unlicensed breeders all the time. But Severus – this is Hagrid we’re talking about. _Hagrid._ You know - ”

“I know the man is a menace. He doesn’t mean to be, but that is beside the point. He bred two creatures together without any real idea of what he would get. And what he got seems to be a nearly indestructible monster that breathes fire.”

“I didn’t say it _breathes_ fire,” Harry corrected him. “It does shoot out sparks – but not from its mouth, if you know what I mean.”

Severus shook his head. The image – the very idea – of fiery flatulence was too ludicrous for words. “Harry. Why do you excuse Hagrid when you, as an Auror, arrest others who do the same thing?”

“It’s Hagrid, Severus. He means no harm – and besides, I wasn’t an Auror back in fourth year when he created those things. I didn’t even know it was illegal until someone else told me.”

“He _meant_ no harm? So his negligence can be excused?”

“Hey – let me finish.” Harry let out a breath and gave Severus a sidelong look. “No, ignorance is not an excuse. And meaning to do no harm doesn’t absolve you from responsibility.”

Severus looked satisfied. “And if he did it again? Today?”

Harry looked at Severus. “I’d have to take him in,” he said at last. “I wouldn’t want to. But I’d have to.”

“Could you do it?” Severus asked.

“Yes. I could.” Harry pushed his feet under Severus’ leg. “We’re really not having as much fun as I thought we would,” he said, pressing his toes up into Severus’ thigh.

“Soon,” promised Severus, though it was decidedly difficult to stay on point with Harry’s proximity. “So – enough about Hagrid and his skrewts.” He still said the word as if didn’t sit right on his tongue. “Let’s discuss these house-elves – Kreacher and Dobby, you said?”

“Borrowed,” said Harry. “We’ve never had any of our own – Mum can’t stomach it. She’s kind of like my friend Hermione in that respect – do you think it’s a Muggle thing?”

“I could counter,” said Severus, giving Harry an interested look as the toes under his thigh moved a bit further south, “that house-elves, who are bound to a household, are obligated to do the will of their master, even if they have plenty to do without taking on the flat of two bachelors who don’t mind picking maggots out of their food.”

“Oh, that’s harsh,” said Harry. He burrowed his toes in a bit deeper under Severus’ bum. Severus’ wrist closed over his ankle. “Hermione would never let us eat maggots.”

“I admit that using house-elves in an argument about moral code is problematic,” Severus stated. “And I’d keep that Hermione around were I you.” He’d pulled Harry’s feet out so that they rested in his lap. Harry inched his heel down closer to Severus’ groin. “I thought, given the way you mother worried over them while we were at Hogwarts, that you might have inherited her outrage over their treatment.”

Harry looked at Severus with interest, giving him a knowing smile. “Looks like you picked up some of that from her yourself. I can’t see that you’d have gone into Slytherin House without some clear opinions about the role of house-elves in Wizarding society.”

“Despite seven years at Hogwarts, and your purported friendship with Regulus Black, you know very little about the Slytherin mind, Mr Potter,” Severus returned. He tugged at Harry’s big toe, then ran a finger lightly down the bottom of his arch, holding Harry’s foot firmly in place as Harry tried to jerk away.

“Regulus _is_ my friend and I know plenty about Slytherins.” He curled his toes and frowned. “And don’t call me that.”

“ _Harry_.” Severus ran his finger along his instep.

“I know that Slytherins cheat at Quidditch. What else is there to know?”

“That Ravenclaws cheat at Quidditch too, and Gryffindors, and perhaps even Hufflepuffs sometimes. It’s not a House thing – ”

“I know – it’s a _Quidditch_ thing,” finished Harry. “So – besides that – what have I got wrong?”

“Slytherins don’t have opinions of any sort regarding house-elves,” Severus said. “House-elves are simply there. They _are_. They _do_. A Slytherin would never waste a second contemplating their appropriate place in society.”

Harry shrugged. Accustomed to the feathery tickle of Severus’ fingers on his soles now, he watched as the other man began to massage his foot more deliberately. “Ahhh – that’s good. Ummm.” He stretched, pressing the heel of the other foot against Severus’ groin. “Are we finished talking about morals yet?” he asked, biting his bottom lip and sighing.

“Actually, no. I’ve one more comment to make about how fluid you can be.”

“Just get it over with then,” begged Harry. “If you keep massaging my foot like that, I’m likely to agree to anything you say and promise to mend my ways and redirect my life.”

“You are of the opinion that the Ministry would look the other way if someone trespassed into the Forbidden Forest, but did so to rid it of the unwelcome skrewts instead of, say, mushrooms?”

Harry grinned. “You haven’t seen a skrewt yet.”

Severus shook his head, resigned. “I am attempting to draw you into a serious conversation about morality.”

“And I’m trying to draw you into a naked shag on my bed,” Harry said. “Though I’m not opposed to having this discussion – maybe over dinner?”

“You can be rather persuasive when you’re thinking about sex,” Severus said. He pushed Harry’s feet out of his lap and stood. “Perhaps you should show me this bedroom.”

“Are you going to fuck me this time?” Harry asked. He was still reclined on the sofa, knees bent and head resting on his crossed arms.

Severus took his time looking at him as he lay there, languidly sprawled. He was young. Younger than any man Severus had ever had. Ever been with. He _looked_ young.

His age was reinforced by the flat. Second-hand furnishings, no eye for decorating or detail, utilitarian. A place to sleep, to study, to have a quick meal after work. A roof over his head. Not a place to live – to really live. Severus remembered those days from his years after Hogwarts when he was attaining his Potions mastery. He certainly wasn’t too eager to return to them.

But –

Harry didn’t act young. He was extremely confident. He identified what he wanted and pursued it. He wasn’t cowed or deterred by Severus’ questions, his attempts at deeper conversation, deeper issues. Distracted, perhaps – but that might improve once they’d worked through all the different ways to make Harry come.

He smirked. To hell with discussing moral tenets – Harry wanted to have sex.

And in all honesty, there was not much Severus wanted to do more right now than shag Harry. He had wasted innumerable hours these past long weeks thinking about it, and all the more vividly since their first sexual encounter the previous weekend at Spinner’s End. Harry had had night patrol this week with Tonks, and he and Severus hadn’t even seen each other until they’d met up in Diagon Alley a few hours ago.

However – in his determination to draw out the experience, he had something other than shagging in mind for today.

Normally, he didn’t pre-plan his sexual activities, but Harry was such a glorious tabula rasa, a blank slate, that he simply didn’t want to rush things.

“I have something else in mind for tonight,” Severus said at last, extending a hand to Harry. “Something I’m sure you’ll like.”

“Do you want me to suck you this time?” breathed Harry. He had pulled himself up to his feet, immediately leaning in and pressing his mouth against Severus’.

“Perhaps.” Severus threaded his fingers into Harry’s unruly hair and kissed him back, letting Harry lead this time. Harry seemed to be a natural at kissing and was learning finesse quickly. He worked his mouth over Severus’, using his tongue but not overwhelming the kiss with it. He traced Severus’ lips, his teeth, touched his palate, sucked on his bottom lip and released it slowly, enticingly.

“Minx,” whispered Severus.

Harry tugged on his hand and they snogged their way down the corridor and into his bedroom.

Severus sat on the bed but prevented Harry from climbing in on top of him.

“No – stay there. A step back. One more. Good. Now be patient while I undress.”

“You’re going to undress?”

Severus nodded. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smirk. “Most certainly.”

“But last time - ”

“Ah – yes. Last time.” Severus bent to remove one boot, then pulled off the sock and folded it inside the boot. He arched his foot and stretched his toes, then looked up at Harry. Harry was exactly where he’d been left, proving that he could indeed follow directions.

Severus carefully removed his other boot and sock, then lined both boots up beside the bed and moved his fingers to the top button of his shirt.

“Merlin – do you have enough buttons?” breathed Harry.

Severus raised an eyebrow and continued. When he reached the bottom, he untucked the shirt and removed it, dropping it to the floor. It fell at Harry’s feet, leaving Severus in a plain white vest. He stretched his neck, rolling it to one side, then the other, then took hold of the vest at the bottom and pulled it off in a single, fluid motion, and dropped it on top of his boots.

Harry shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He bit his bottom lip, eyes focused now on Severus’ lean, pale chest with its sparse dark hair.

Severus’ hand moved to his trousers. He unfastened the button with one hand, then pulled down the zip and stood.

His trousers fell to the floor, past his slim hips and arse, leaving him in a pair of black boxers.

His skin was extremely pale, his legs as thin as his chest, hardly an ounce of fat on him.

Severus hooked a thumb in the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down past his hips. They dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them.

Calm as he appeared, he was already quite aroused. He was not a bit attractive – he had no illusions where that was concerned. But he looked up to find Harry staring unabashedly at his erection.

“My turn?” he asked, taking a single step forward. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

Severus held up a hand. “Slowly,” he said. “And talk to me while you undress.”

“Talk to you? What about?” Harry was already using his toes to pull off one of his socks, hopping around indelicately on one foot.

“Tell me about how you’re going to suck me off when you’re naked and in bed with me.”

Harry paused, holding his socks. Severus saw a slow, genuine smile bloom across his face.

“I’m going to suck you off?” he asked. His voice was low and needy, as if he could already taste Severus’ prick. “I’m going to take your cock in my mouth and lick and suck you, and let you practically choke me with it until you come down my throat?”

“That’s the end game,” Severus said. He dropped his elbows onto the bed behind him and leaned back. The fingers of his right hand closed around his prick and he watched Harry as he unhurriedly pulled and squeezed, keeping his eyes open and focused on Harry only with great effort.

“Alright - ” Harry untucked his shirt, then grasped the hem and, remembering Severus’ directions - _bless him_ \- slowly lifted the shirt, peeling it from his body so that his flesh was revealed little by little. He worked the shirt over his head, then dropped it atop Severus’.

“I’ve never had a cock in my mouth,” he said, speaking very quietly, as he unbuttoned his jeans. He may not have been trying for seductive, but his voice had turned low and throaty. “I’ve thought about it – what it would feel like. What it feels like in my hand, with lotion, or soaped up in the shower. What it would taste like – not just the come, but the cock itself. Salty like sweat, or earthy, or clean or spicy like soap.”

Severus watched as Harry pulled down his zipper – excruciatingly slowly – then paused, placket of his jeans splayed open, revealing the promising bulge in his blue briefs. “I’ve been thinking about your cock all week, Severus. Wondering if I can take it all in at once, if you’d be patient while I tried, or if you’d lose control and slam into my mouth, _fuck_ my mouth. Because I’d want to take my time, I think, and maybe – ” He paused and looked slowly up at Severus. “Maybe finger you – just like you did to me.”

He pressed his lips together then, as if talking about it was just too difficult, and started to work his jeans down past his hips. They were far tighter than Severus’ trousers, and in the end he had to pull them from the bottom to get them past his feet. He stood on one leg as he did so, and Severus continued to stroke his own cock – slowly, oh so slowly – until Harry stood there, wearing only his briefs.

He looked up at Severus as he worked his thumbs behind the elastic.

Severus gave a single, slow nod, the barest inclination of his head.

Harry pulled the pants down, letting them fall to the floor around his ankles. He stepped out of them, then kicked them over with his other clothing. His cock was full, but he was successfully ignoring it, staring at Severus instead.

Severus beckoned to him with a movement of his neck.

“Both of us at once this time, do you think?” Severus said, stretching out on the bed so his feet were near the pillows and his head at the foot. He lay half on his side, staring at Harry expectantly.

“Sixty-nine,” breathed Harry. He licked his lips again, and Severus gave him a predatory smile.

“Sixty-nine,” Severus confirmed. “Mutual fellatio.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re game?”

“Oh, I’m game.” Harry settled on the edge of the bed and looked at Severus expectantly.

“Come here first.” Severus reached for Harry, drawing him down into a kiss that quickly grew heated. Despite his initial position and his previous invitation, Severus soon rolled Harry beneath him and grasped his hands, holding him pinned to the bed while they both panted and recovered their breath. Their pricks were nearly aligned and Severus fought back the desire to mix up the game plan and teach Harry frottage before sixty-nine.

When their breathing slowed, he kissed Harry once more, a slow, sensual press of lips and barest swipe of tongue, then released his hands and quickly turned his body so that his mouth could easily reach its prize. When he engulfed the head of Harry’s prick with his mouth, he jerked in surprise as Harry wrapped his arms around his hips, taking him in without instruction and working one arm under his thigh so he could grasp his buttocks with both hands.

With a mouthful of Harry’s sinfully delicious cock, Severus could hardly give verbal instructions.

Not that he needed to. Harry took his lead from Severus, doing to Severus precisely what Severus was doing to him. Perhaps without the finesse - _certainly_ without the finesse – of Severus, but absolutely more than adequate.

And given the number of years it had been since Severus had been in this particular position, he had absolutely no complaints.

Severus didn’t think he’d ever use the word “adequate” to describe having his cock in Harry’s mouth, Harry’s lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, Harry’s tongue pressing against it as his cockhead pressed against Harry’s palate. He’d nearly swallow Severus, then pull back, maintaining the near-perfect pressure, sucking the tip lightly as one hand squeezed the shaft and the other held on to his buttocks.

He was growing impossibly hard, so hard, so focused on cock and balls and the warm, soft heat of Harry’s mouth, that only force of will kept him on task, drawing pleasure from Harry so that he moaned around Severus’ prick.

Fuck. He nearly came from the sensation of that moan alone, from the susurration of breath reverberating around his cock.

Severus responded by digging his fingers into Harry’s arse and swallowing him.

Harry, far past the point and even the possibility of holding back, erupted. He pulsed into Severus’ mouth, jerking when Severus’ sucked his over-sensitized erection. Severus rolled onto his back, pulling Harry on top of him as he released Harry’s spent prick.

“Almost there,” he growled as Harry, starting to recover, moved his mouth lazily over Severus’ prick, his hand now caressing his back, now moving down behind his bollocks, ghosting over his crease.

Severus nearly came from the sensation of the finger pad pressing against him. Harry seemed to have a knack for knowing what was enough and what was too much. Not tentative but careful, deliberate. He moved his finger, grazing over the sensitive flesh lightly, circling as he continued to swallow Severus’ cock, waiting until it was plain that Severus was trying to prolong the moment – drawn-up bollocks, arched feet, tense legs – then pressing in.

Severus let himself go, thrusting into Harry’s mouth, groaning as the powerful orgasm ripped through him, as the tension left his body and he melted into the mattress.

Harry swallowed, releasing Severus’ prick only after he was spent, and letting out a long breath.

“That was spectacular,” he breathed. He shifted around and crawled atop Severus, letting himself be drawn into a languid kiss. “What are you going to teach me next?”

Severus chuckled. “I think – how to make a good omelet.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Harry nestled in against Severus with a sigh.

“If you think it means making something from eggs, cheese and vegetables – yes.”

“And I thought it was some new kinky sexual position,” quipped Harry.


	12. Testing the Waters

Harry was kept busy with classes and patrols all week, and Severus buried himself at Spinner’s End, deep in his consuming, ongoing research.

Harry missed Severus.

It wasn’t that he was lonely – even having the flat to himself with Ron in Argentina, he was surrounded by people all day and most evenings. But he was quickly becoming accustomed to the idea of having someone – someone special, someone of his own, a companion and a lover. Severus was sarcastic and acerbic, not at all like Harry – or any of his friends, for that matter – but he was smart and intense, world-wise and focused. And Harry loved having that focus on himself, and finding that he and Severus connected on a number of levels outside of their obvious physical compatibility.

They’d established a pattern already, with each of them focusing on work during the week, meeting for coffee or a pint somewhere in the middle – on Tuesday or Wednesday – then resuming their activities together in earnest on the weekend. During the first week, Severus had owled him – a short missive, with his omelet recipe written out in small, neat printing.

Harry had tacked it to his refrigerator with a magnet. He’d owled Severus back, waiting a day to make sure he didn’t look too eager, though it had about killed him to wait that long.

He was doing a good deal of waiting, actually.

Severus was certainly taking his time taking them from one level to the next when it came to sex.

Which was one way that Harry knew that the relationship had the potential to be a serious one.

Severus was almost forty. He was certainly far more experienced than Harry, and could certainly have shagged Harry boneless that first night and sent him on his way. Instead, he was stretching out their encounters, testing the waters beyond sex.

Like making omelets. Or sampling what was on tap at a local pub.

Harry smiled.

He knew everyone would think Severus was too old for him. Some of his friends might even question his sanity at going out with a Slytherin. They were already talking at the academy, though Harry shrugged that off and went about his business, glad that he was getting more ribbing for dating a teacher than for dating a man, dating someone twenty years older.

He’d already mentally gone over all the potentially awkward scenarios he could think of. He knew a few of his friends would question his homosexuality, though he didn’t really expect anyone to make a big deal about it, and that others would find they had little in common with Severus. He imagined bringing Severus along to things he did with his friends – pub nights, dinners out, a Muggle movie. How would Severus fit into those evenings? Could he take Severus to dinner with Ron and Hermione?

Actually, yes. He had an idea that Hermione and Severus could spend hours discussing Wizarding law, abuses of the Ministry of Magic and maybe – just maybe - _Hogwarts: A History._ Hermione could argue Wizarding law and morality with Severus until she was blue in the face. He doubted Severus’ face would ever turn the colours Hermione’s could.

He grinned at the thought, but soon turned more sober.

His parents. If anyone could be a real obstacle, it might be them. After all, he was the only child of an only child, the last Potter in a long and very old Wizarding line. He was expected to carry on the line. His sexuality certainly didn’t prevent him from having children, though they weren’t likely to come about in the usual way, but it was far too early in the relationship – hell, in his _life_ – to be worrying about whether he’d be carrying on the Potter line.

Anyway, while his parents were still in South America, they didn’t pose a problem. They knew about Severus, and he’d listened politely to their concerns and gone on and approached Severus anyway. And Severus, he thought, had been fairly forthcoming about his relationship with his mother. That was a road he’d not gone down again. He had no real desire to know more about school-aged Severus’ infatuation with his mother.

Even though school-aged Severus was really only a couple years younger than Harry was now.

He was sure that his parents would have plenty to say about the relationship when they got back, right before Harry’s birthday. If he and Severus were still together then.

From his current vantage point, he was pretty sure they would be.

Shit. Harry groaned. His birthday. The annual summer party at the Burrow.

Would Ron’s mum and dad welcome Severus? They had a gay son of their own, but Severus was older than any of their children. They might not know him – they were both out of Hogwarts before Harry’s parents – and Severus too – had started school, but Ron was sure to have told them about Severus collecting in the Forbidden Forest, and Mrs. Weasley was pretty black and white when it came to the law.

He’d decided to stop worrying about it and was getting ready to Floo-call Severus and firm up their weekend plans, when the Floo flared up on its own, green and purple flames rising to the top of the fireplace, and spat out a piece of parchment folded up into a tight square. Harry grabbed it out of the air as it shot toward him, and quickly unfolded it. He already knew it was from Ron. Ron didn’t have the Galleons for international Floo calls, and had promised to send him Floo mail to let him know how things were going.

The letter was smudged and slightly singed, but Harry was able to make it out when he took it closer to the window.

_Harry –_

_I’ve only got a few minutes between games here, but thought I should let you know that your parents have been all over me for information about you and Snape. Your mum took me to lunch yesterday and I thought she was being nice, but then she started in on the questions. Are you sure you’ve convinced her you really don’t like girls? Because she asked a lot of questions about Ginny, too, and who she’s seeing, and if she’ll be at the Burrow for your birthday. But really – there’s something going on I don’t quite understand. Something about Snape – and your parents. I can tell your mum and dad aren’t exactly on the same page about him. Anyway, after the first practice this morning, your dad told me he was surprised Snape is interested in you – the Snape he knew wasn’t interested in blokes at all, and only wanted to get his dirty hands on things he couldn’t have._

_My guess is that they think Snape’s using you somehow, and they think it has something to do with them._

_So be careful, mate. With them and with Snape. You know your mum is usually right about everything – she’s right up there with Hermione in that regard._

_Oh, and your dad might take to him a bit better if you teach him to play Quidditch. Just saying._

_-Ron_

Harry read the note a second time. He looked at the mantel clock. Only one o’clock in the afternoon. He had a date with Severus at six, and the entire afternoon off for a change.

The note didn’t surprise him. He obviously knew more than Ron did, and much more than his parents thought he knew. His parents obviously didn’t think that Snape would tell Harry the truth, or something close to it. He wanted to attribute their reaction to classic, age-old Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalries, but something told him there was more going on here.

He could ask Severus, of course. He had an idea he could get more out of him if he tried, but as yet, it hadn’t been too important, especially with his parents across the ocean. He wanted to stay well and clear from Sirius, which left Remus and Peter.

Ugh. Peter. He’d never liked Peter Pettigrew, and there was no way he was going to approach him.

But there was time enough to drop in on Remus and say hello to Teddy – and to see if he could get anything out of Remus about his parents and Severus Snape.


	13. The Mother of all Rivalries

“I know you have ulterior motives for your visit today, Harry,” Remus said some time later. Harry was sitting in the garden glider holding his sleeping godson, while Remus worked in the vegetable garden.

Harry smiled. “Am I that transparent?” he asked, adjusting Teddy on his shoulder so the drool didn’t accumulate all in one spot.

Remus grinned back at him. “Well, I can’t remember the last time you dropped in on me during the day. You usually come when Tonks is here, too. Add that to the fact that I’d be deaf, dumb and blind to not know you’re seeing someone new – someone a bit controversial.”

“Only a bit? That’s good news, then,” said Harry as he ran his hand over little Teddy’s hair.

“Well, that’s a matter of opinion, of course,” Remus said. He looked at Harry and shook his head. “Sirius is ready to have you committed.”

“No surprise there,” Harry said. “He still has problem with me being gay – says I’m eliminating half the potential partners in the world with my narrow-minded view of things.”

Remus laughed and shook his head fondly. “Sirius is an equal-opportunity philanderer,” he said.

“But it’s not just that,” Harry continued. “He really hates Severus, doesn’t he?”

Remus didn’t deny it, though he was quick to temper Harry’s words. “Do you have time to listen to me for a few minutes, Harry? Impartially?”

Harry looked down at Teddy’s downy head and shifted him again. The little boy was dead weight in his arms – he wasn’t likely to wake anytime soon.

“Sure,” he answered. “But don’t try to convince me of Sirius’ innate goodness despite his flaws.” He grinned at Remus as Remus rolled his eyes. “I already know that. I’ve been around him my entire life.”

Remus looked down at his son, eyes softening. He shook his head. “You weren’t around when we were at Hogwarts, and you didn’t know Sirius when he was a teenager. Plus you never knew his mother.”

“Oh – I know his mother,” Harry said.

“Let’s just say that the portrait is a toned-down version,” Remus countered.

“Wow.”

Remus laughed. He carried the basket of squash to the porch stairs and sat down on the top step and took a long drink of the water he’d left sitting there.

“Alright – I’m listening,” Harry said. “Why does Sirius hate Severus?”

“I do recall saying ‘impartially’,” Remus reminded him.

“You did.” Harry rephrased his question. “So why is there so much bad blood between them?”

“Better. The short answer is that Sirius can be a prick and Severus was easy prey.”

Harry frowned. “Doesn’t put Sirius in quite the favorable light, does it?”

“The short answer isn’t the best answer, Harry. Sirius was the first one in his family – ever – sorted into Gryffindor. He had something to prove, and it was made all the worse when Regulus was sorted into Slytherin the next year.”

Harry mentally slapped himself. Regulus! Why hadn’t he thought of Regulus? He’d have to go there next to get another perspective on this whole thing.

“Alright – I can see it,” Harry responded, rubbing circles onto Teddy’s back.

“It was the mother of all rivalries,” Remus explained. “Then Regulus and Severus became friends – and Regulus’ friends were welcome at Grimmauld Place while Sirius had to sneak us in. We were only invited over when Mrs. Black was off visiting relatives for a few days now and again.”

“So Regulus and Severus were friends at Hogwarts,” Harry said. He tried not to show his hand – that he already knew they’d been more than friends.

“They were.” If Remus knew about Severus and Regulus’ relationship, he didn’t let on. “Severus – well, even though Severus was sorted into Slytherin, he didn’t have the same pureblood background as Sirius and Regulus. And for some reason, Regulus was able to overlook that far more easily than Sirius was. Severus’ father was a Muggle and his mother was more or less shunned by her family for taking up with him.”

Harry chewed on the inside of his lip, considering this piece of information. While he and Severus hadn’t talked any more about his parents after the short conversation about the house at Spinner’s End, Harry of course realized that at least one of Severus’ parents was a Muggle, or at least Muggle-born like his own mum. The house was obviously not a wizard home – it had gas and lights and a lock on the front door and was right in the middle of a rather shabby Muggle neighborhood.

“I think you can see where this is going, Harry. Severus’ family didn’t have much money. His clothing was outdated and ill-fitting. He was skinny and gangly and had greasy hair and that – um – _prominent_ nose. Severus became an easy target for Sirius, and through Sirius, for your dad and even myself.”

“He’s not like that, you know,” Harry said. He needed to say something. His heart was aching for the Severus Snape that Remus was describing. “He’s not like that at all now.”

“Oh, I imagine he’s not. I’ve not seen him in years, but Tonks told me a bit about him. Sounds like he’s met with some success.”

“So – Sirius hated him at Hogwarts because he was poor and ugly and Slytherin and friendly with his brother. That was a long time ago, Remus. What’s his big problem now?”

“Well, that would be your mum, wouldn’t it?” said Remus with a smile. “What’s she told you about Severus? You have Floo-called her once or twice these past few weeks, haven’t you? Don’t tell me it didn’t come up in conversation.”

Harry smiled. Of all the Marauders, Remus was the most calm and level-headed, especially during the couple weeks in the middle of each lunar cycle. “I haven’t exactly told them I’m seeing him,” he said, “but I haven’t hidden it, either. I mean – we’ve been in Diagon Alley together, and in Muggle London. Lots of people have seen us together.” He sighed. “I asked Mum about him early on – while we were still in Potions – so of course she knows I was interested in him. But they know now– they must know, because Sirius knows.”

They shared a knowing look.

“Yeah – I know he’s been talking your ear off, too,” Harry went on. “I finally sat down and talked to him on Tuesday, but he didn’t want to listen. He just kept repeating that Snape is trouble with a capital T and if I’m so insistent on finding a boyfriend, I could do a lot better, and he’d even be willing to set me up with someone he knows who’ll be perfect for me.”

“Harry – it’s probably worth me telling you that Sirius thinks Severus has some – well – some ethical issues. Things that might be trouble for you as an Auror.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Severus and I covered that while he was still doing our Potions lessons.”

“Oh?” Remus took another drink of water and looked up at Harry, waiting for him to go on.

“And Sirius has already informed me that Snape got into Hogwarts knowing more Dark magic than any other student. And maybe that’s true, and maybe it’s not, but you know what, Remus? I’m not interested in Severus Snape the first-year or even the seventh-year. I’m interested in the Severus Snape I know today. And I’ve not seen any sign of Dark magic or Dark artifacts or even any interest in the Dark Arts.” He paused for breath, staring down at little Teddy’s sleeping form and lowering his voice. “And Sirius knows that as well as anyone else, Remus. That people can change. He’s just using that as a convenient excuse. This thing with Severus – well, it’s _personal._ ”

“I started to tell you,” Remus began, as Harry stopped talking. “The thing with your mum and dad, remember?”

“Well, yeah. Actually, Severus already told me that bit,” Harry admitted. “About being in love with my mum and all.”

“Did he?” Remus asked, clearly taken aback. “Well, I admit I’m surprised. You do realize what this looks like, don’t you?”

“This…?” asked Harry, knowing full well what Remus was getting at.

“Don’t play games, Harry.” He, too, lowered his voice. “It looks like he’s going after you to get back at your mum and dad. He couldn’t have your mum because your dad took her away from him, so he’ll just take their only son and show them a thing or two.”

Harry sighed. “I know it looks like that. But you have to understand – I made the first move. I went after him, not knowing anything about his past – or their past with him – at all. And he made me wait until the course session was over, and it’s not like he’s just throwing me in bed and shagging me and sending me on my way.”

Remus’ eyebrows rose. Harry grinned. “More than you needed to know – sorry.”

“Harry – about your mum and Severus. You do realize there’s more to the story than what he told you? There’s a reason they’re not friends anymore – a reason that goes beyond Lily choosing James over him?”

Harry considered the matter. “Remus – thanks. I really appreciate you telling me all of this. But I think I’d like to talk to Severus first, if you don’t mind. See if he’s comfortable telling me what I’m bound to hear from one of you eventually.”

“His story might not be quite the same,” Remus warned him.

“Of course not,” Harry replied, knowing that the truth would likely be somewhere in the middle.

“You staying for dinner? Tonks is bringing Thai.”

Harry shook his head. “Thanks, but no. Actually – I have a date.”


	14. Dinner and a Movie

Dinner and a movie.

It sounded so ordinary.

And it would have been – really. Pleasantly ordinary. Perfectly fine ordinary.

Had they stayed in London.

Had they stayed in the U.K., even.

But as it turned out, Severus and Harry queued up together at the Ministry’s new International Floo terminal across the street from Gringotts and, after two connections, landed in the Paris apartment of one of Severus’ good friends.

Flooing always made Harry dizzy and disoriented, and he stumbled more than stepped out behind Severus, putting his hands out in time to catch himself on the sofa instead of tumbling to the ground.

“Give me a minute,” he said, holding up a hand and blowing out a slow breath. He squeezed his eyes closed for a long moment, then straightened up and looked at his surroundings.

Severus was standing several feet away, his friend beside him.

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

“Professor Burbage?”

Charity Burbage, the Hogwarts Muggle Studies professor, smiled at him and stepped forward. She took both of his hands in her own and kissed his left cheek, then his right.

 _“Bienvenue a Paris,_ Harry,” she said. “Welcome to Paris.” She dropped Harry’s hands and turned to Severus with a wink. “When you told me you were seeing one of my former students, I imagined someone a bit older, and a bit – hmmm.” She hesitated.

“A bit more female, perhaps?” Severus suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“A bit less _Marauder_ ,” she teased. “I can’t believe Sirius hasn’t killed you yet, Severus. James and Lily’s son!” She was smiling broadly, but Harry saw her shoot an odd look at Severus.

“You were at Hogwarts with Severus and my parents,” Harry said. He grinned. “I thought you were younger than my mum and dad.”

She laughed. “Thank you for that, Harry. I was actually a year ahead of them – in Ravenclaw – but I had an affinity for Potions and Severus and I became friends in our last few years at Hogwarts and have kept up since.” She studied him a moment, then nodded with apparent approval. “You’ve done well catching Severus’ attention, Harry.”

“Actually, he caught my eye first,” Harry corrected.

She looked at Severus and raised an eyebrow. She was obviously surprised.

“True,” Severus hurried to assure her. “And with the added benefit that he had no idea who I was. He didn’t approach me as an act of rebellion against his parents or godfather.”

“I didn’t – did I?” Harry said, grinning.

Severus stepped in and took Harry’s hand. “We appreciate your hospitality, Charity. We should be back before midnight to Floo back home.”

“Oh – stay here, why don’t you? I’m going out and won’t be back until noon tomorrow at least. Take the extra room – it’s all made up.” She pointed down the corridor toward two doors. “And there’s a treat in the bathroom. I had Gwen help me do a bit of work in there with Wizarding space – I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Gwen as in Gwendolyn Hunter – the Charms professor?” Harry guessed.

“As in,” Charity confirmed.

“You could have warned me,” Harry told Severus as they walked from the apartment to the metro.

“And miss the look on your face when you realized you were in your old Muggle Studies professor’s apartment?” replied Severus, taking Harry’s arm.

“I always liked Professor Burbage,” Harry said. He glanced over at Severus. “Were you ever – well – more than friends?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “No. I was quite infatuated with your mother most of my time at Hogwarts, and after that – well, you know who was next.” He glanced at Harry, as if debating whether to go on. “And besides, Charity Burbage is not interested in men. I am surprised that that piece of information is not well known or at least rumoured at Hogwarts.”

Harry looked fairly gobsmacked. “You’re joking? No – you’re not.” Realization dawned. “Merlin – Professor Hunter!” He shook his head as Severus smirked. “Do you have any idea how many blokes at Hogwarts would have their hopes shattered by that news? She’s – well, she’s _hot_ , Severus. Even I think so!”

“I do realize that, Harry,” Severus said, pulling out two metro cards from his pocket and handing one to Harry. “Any more illusions about your former professors you’d like me to shatter?”

“All right – is there any truth to that rumour about McGonagall and Dumbledore…?”

They took the stairs down and worked their way to the platform. Severus’ voice echoed up as they walked.

“Dumbledore and McGonagall? What is _wrong_ with students these days? Dumbledore is as gay as an Easter parade."

***

Dinner was excellent, the film – in English with French subtitles – was good, and the company through all was superb. When Harry and Severus made their way back to Charity’s apartment, it was going on midnight.

“I like Paris,” Harry said, stopping to kiss Severus just inside the door. “Well, the small bit of it I saw tonight, anyway.

Severus walked down the corridor and pushed open the first door. “I think you’ll like this bit, too,” he said. “I didn’t think anyone could measure up to Flitwick but Gwen’s a natural at Charms.”

“Wow.” Harry peeked around Severus’ shoulder. “And it’s ours tonight? Reminds me a bit of the prefects’ bathroom at Hogwarts.”

“You never said you were a prefect,” Severus remarked, wandering into the cavernous bath and kneeling beside the sunken tub. He fiddled with the faucets until steaming water gushed out into the tub. A smell that reminded Harry of Christmas began to fill the air.

“I wasn’t. Quidditch captain, though. The prefects used to let us use their bath pretty much whenever we wanted.” He sat beside Severus on the slightly raised edge of the tub. “Merlin, Severus – my best wank fantasy my last year at Hogwarts involved getting off in the prefects’ tub with Victor Krum.”

“Victor Krum? The Bulgarian Quidditch player? The one who looks like a bird of prey?” He shot Harry a speculative look. “I’m beginning to have some concerns about your aesthetic.”

“Hey – I was just beginning to develop my preferences back then,” Harry said. “Besides, he was all dark and broody like someone else I know.” He grinned, and Severus, apparently satisfied with the temperature and the combination of essential oils, stood and began to unbutton his jacket.

“I’m not broody.”

“Aren’t you? Because I obviously like broody.”

Harry sat on the low chair in front of the dressing mirror and removed his shoes and socks. He stretched out his legs and watched as Severus continued to undress.

“I am thoughtful – I do not consider myself broody. Though the word does have a certain air about it, does it not?”

He padded, naked, to the end of the enormous tub and stepped into the water, closing his eyes and sighing as he settled on one of the underwater benches that lined the edge of the tub. The bath had filled quickly, as magical tubs do, and the water level at the wide ledge reached his nipples.

Harry watched him as he began to unbutton his own shirt. Severus’ eyes were still closed, his head resting against the raised lip of the tub. The aroma of pine was fresh and clean but not overpowering. A thin veneer of oil floated on the water and steam rose from the surface.

Severus opened his eyes and watched as Harry quickly undressed. He looked relaxed and contemplative.

“Planning our shag?” Harry asked as the shirt fell from his shoulders. He picked it up and hung it over the chair. “Our pine-scented shag, that is?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You will persist in rushing things, won’t you?”

“Rushing things? Shit, Severus, I’m still a teenager – ” He stopped, noting the change in Severus’ expression. “Right – sorry. Won’t remind you again.”

Severus shook his head. “As if I need reminding. You’ve twice my stamina.”

“And a fraction of your experience,” Harry added.

“As you said – you’re a … young. You have all the time in the world.” He ran his eyes up and down Harry’s body appreciatively. “While I do not. And you have made me wait long enough tonight already. Strip and get in here with me.”

Harry’s lips twisted as he suppressed a grin. He let his hand fall slowly to his trouser button, and fiddled with it without undoing it. “Is that an order?” he teased.

“Is that an order, _sir_?” Severus said, smiling as he sank down to his shoulders in the warm water. Harry could see through the glistening surface of the water that his hand was on his cock.

Harry kept his eyes on that hand as he removed his trousers and pants and walked to the end of the tub. He sat on the edge, then lowered himself into the water.

Severus beckoned to him with a finger.

“Come here.”

“This feels great,” Harry said, cutting the top of the water with his fingertips as he moved toward Severus. He stopped in front of Severus and quirked an eyebrow. “Where do you want me?” he asked.

“Everywhere,” said Severus. He was still stroking his cock, looking somewhere between comfortable and predatory.

“You know what I mean,” Harry said, taking a step closer. “And are you supposed to be playing with yourself when you’ve got me to play with?”

Severus reached out, surprising Harry, and pulled him forward.

“You talk too much,” he said, dropping his head to nuzzle at Harry’s neck and pulling him more firmly into his lap.

Harry didn’t reply. Severus was a quick study, and had already identified the spot on his neck that turned him into putty. He wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck and slid forward on his lap, body light and buoyant in the water. He pushed his feet behind Severus’ back, pulling him slightly forward on the bench. His limbs slid along Severus’ body fluidly.

Severus’ hand, still busy on his own prick, brushed against Harry’s.

“Ahhh.” The sensation was unexpected. His eyes opened wide. “The oil -?”

“For special occasions,” Severus whispered into his ear, latching onto a lobe and working it with teeth and tongue. “A potion Charity and I invented together some years ago. Floats atop the water but adheres to the skin as it is submerged. Slippery – smooth – thankfully, the ledge on which I’m sitting has a textured surface or I’d be on my arse on the bottom of the tub by now.”

“Brilliant.” Harry’s fingers smoothed down Severus’ back as the hand Severus had been using to stroke himself moved to Harry’s arse and pulled him in even tighter. He nudged at Harry with his chin and initiated a long kiss. When he broke away, Harry rested his fingers on Severus’ chest, inadvertently grazing a nipple with his slippery fingers.

Severus inhaled sharply, then attacked Harry’s mouth once again.

“How is it,” he breathed, “that we haven’t yet tried nipple play?”

Harry moved his hand across Severus’ chest and lightly grazed the other nipple. “Nipple play?” he teased as Severus groaned. “Do you like that?”

“I like many things,” Severus answered, capturing Harry’s wandering hand by the wrist. “And I know what I like, and don’t like. And what I’d like right now is for you to put your hands around my neck – both of them. Yes – loosely.” He leaned forward and kissed Harry’s exposed shoulder. “And keep them there.”

Harry hung on to him, hands clasped behind his shoulders and ankles crossed behind his waist, thinking that this position shouldn’t be as comfortable as it was. He let his upper body fall back and away from Severus, leaning back into the water, and Severus’ mouth twitched into that curious almost-smile, apparently pleased that Harry had anticipated his next move.

Almost.

Harry’s eyes were closed when Severus’ mouth closed over his nipple.

Warm, wet, wonderful – a frisson of arousal traveling straight to his groin. His hands tightened around Severus’ neck and he groaned, head dropping back as Severus tugged at the nub, then laved it with his tongue, nuzzling aggressively as Harry clenched his thighs around Severus’ middle and thrust forward.

“Merlin – that’s good. Fuck. Severus – that’s so good.”

And it was good. Really good. He longed to fist his hands in Severus’ hair as each pull, each tease, of that dexterous tongue sent a surge of desire through him, a current running from his chest to his rapidly hardening cock. A sudden pressure on his other nipple had him nearly keening as Severus pinched it lightly with slick fingers while continuing to suck on the other.

“Now I get why Ron is into breasts,” Harry moaned.

Severus responded by pinching one nipple sharply while biting lightly on the other. “Please do me the favor of never mentioning Ron or breasts again while we are naked,” he muttered.

He moved a hand down to his cock, and placed the other one around Harry. Before Harry had the chance to mourn the loss of the tongue and fingers, Severus’ hand circled his cock as well, pressing it up against his own and squeezing softly. The fine oily potion coating fingers and cocks made Severus’ hand slide up the shafts with ease, leaving Harry tingling. He closed his eyes as he leaned forward again, dropping his forehead on Severus’ shoulder.

“Fuck – that’s excellent. Your cock – rubbing against mine – your fingers….” He panted as Severus moved his hand up and down with firm, regular squeezes. His eyes were on the movement of the hand underwater, locked on the two hard shafts pushing against each other in the circle of Severus’ hands. It was mesmerizing, watching the movement through the shimmering surface of the water, through the small ripples spreading out from their joined cocks.

Harry continued to breathe heavily, long, slow releases of breath in time with the up-and-down movements of Severus’ fingers. He was struggling for control, trying to prolong his orgasm as long as possible, wanting to come with Severus this time. He chanced moving one hand, dropping it down onto Severus’ back, then up over his shoulder again, trailing it lightly down his neck, his throat, onto his chest, grazing it lightly over his collarbone, circling a nipple distractedly as Severus’ hand moved higher, teasing his cockhead before dropping down, fingers touching his bollocks before traveling around and up again.

He tried to split his mind, move his own focus away from the mind-blowing pressure building in his groin and onto the dusky nub of Severus’ nipple, small and taut. Severus hadn’t reminded him to keep his hands around his neck, so he circled the nipple again lightly with one finger, then grazed over it with his fingernail.

“You will be the death of me,” Severus said, voice low and hoarse, as he cupped Harry’s bollocks, then resumed the upward slide, squeezing harder, circling the heads and then, to Harry’s surprise and delight, increasing the tempo until he was pumping them vigorously.

Harry pinched the nipple firmly between thumb and forefinger just as orgasm hit him.

Severus came a second later with a strangled cry, and Harry clutched at him, slippery with the lubricating potion, softening in Severus’ grip. He wrapped his arms around Severus’ back.

“This was a fantastic night,” he said into Severus’ ear. “But I can't believe we just had sex in Professor Burbage's bathtub.”

Severus snorted, and Harry laughed, sinking back into Severus' arms, wishing he could stay there forever.


	15. All Fall Down

The run-in with Sirius on Tuesday started the entire line of dominos tumbling.

“How do you know I was out of the country?” Harry asked, gaze narrowing as he stopped walking and turned to face his godfather. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Oh – you know. The usual way,” said Sirius dismissively. “And don’t you think you _should_ tell someone when you spend the night away from home? Especially when you’re in another country? For Merlin’s sake, Harry, you’re only eighteen! You’ve only been out of the house and on your own a year. While your parents are gone, they’re counting on me to keep an eye out for you.”

“By what – monitoring International Floo traffic?”

“You know all International Floo traffic is tracked, Harry.”

“By the MLE. Not by you personally! As far as I know, you’ve never been personally involved in anything having to do with the Transportation Authority.”

“Let’s just say I was alerted due to an ongoing investigation.” Sirius tried giving Harry a conspiratorial smile. Harry was not amused.

“Ongoing investigation, huh? Can I assume I’m not the one being watched, then?”

“Of course it’s not you. Come on, Harry. This can’t really surprise you, can it? You knew from the beginning that Snape was involved in dodgy activities – that he was caught trespassing and stealing.”

“And charges were dropped because he agreed to teach the Academy Potions course.”

Sirius was beginning to look agitated. “It doesn’t change what he did, Harry. And people who break the law once are much more likely to break it again. His morals are shite, Harry. Shite.” Sirius was on a roll now. “He’s twice your age – you have nothing in common. Nothing! If you’re looking for a good shag, you know I can -”

“I’m not looking for a good shag,” hissed Harry, lowering his voice and ducking inside an empty classroom to take their argument out of public earshot.

“Good, because Snape is the last person in the world to -”

“Stop it.” Harry turned away and began counting silently to ten.

“God damn it, Harry, what do you _see_ in him? He’s ugly, unpleasant, into the Dark Arts and doesn’t know a Snitch from a Sickle.”

“He’s interesting, intelligent, dead sexy, and my mum must have liked _something_ about him!”

“Ha!” Sirius turned on him. “That! If they’re such good friends, why did she never mention him to you? He wasn’t stopping by the house for Sunday dinner, was he? They didn’t choose him to be your godfather – did they? Pity though – I doubt he’d be trying to shag you if they had. Though honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Harry stared at Sirius, truly hurt by his last remark.

“Forget it,” he said. He tried for calm, collected. “Just forget it. We’re going to have to disagree on this one. You know – I don’t like all your girlfriends and boyfriends either. And you never ask me my opinion on the matter. So just – just drop it.”

“Harry.” Sirius took a step toward him.

“No. I mean it. I’m not discussing this anymore. Stop spying on him. Stop spying on us. If you do it again, I’m turning you in.”

“Turning me in?” Sirius laughed. “Harry, you’re talking nonsense. I’d get a slap on the wrist, if that. And you know I’m only looking out for you because I love you.”

Harry rubbed his forehead. He did know that. But he also knew that Sirius had a long-seated dislike of Severus that had nothing to do with the man Severus was today, and something to do with public-school and teenage House rivalries and something to do with Sirius’ own family situation, and the acceptance shown to Severus Snape that was never shown to his own friends.

“I don’t want to do this, Sirius. I don’t want to have this argument with you. You’ve got to trust me on this one – I like him. He’s not who you remember. He’s not hiding anything from me about his past. He’s –”

“He’s not? What has he told you about my brother, then?” challenged Sirius.

Harry blushed, remembering the conversation with his mum, and how he’d brought it up in conversation with Severus. “Mum told me, actually,” he said. “And Severus hasn’t even seen Regulus in more than a decade. So they had a fling? So what? People aren’t allowed to have pasts? What can you tell me about Severus that’s so damning that happened within the last fifteen years?”

“Besides what you already know? That he was stealing and trespassing?” Sirius held up his hands. “Forget it.” He looked at Harry and the anger dissipated somewhat from his eyes. “Hey, I was your age once. And back then, no one could have convinced me that anything I was doing was unwise – even though it was.” He gave Harry a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If your mum were here, you’d be singing a different tune, young man. You wouldn’t be able to stand the look in her eyes. Not after she told you about Severus calling her a Mudbood.”

Harry stared at Sirius. Mudblood. The most derogatory of words for Muggle-borns. He’d heard the word a time or two before Hogwarts, but it was hearing it directed at Hermione, out of Draco Malfoy’s spoiled, pampered, pointy-chinned mouth that had made him hate it vehemently.

No. Severus wouldn’t have said that. Severus had loved his mum. They’d been friends from childhood.

“He didn’t say that,” Harry said. “He wouldn’t have.”

Sirius shook his head. “See? You don’t know him. Not really. Because he _did_ say it – I was there. I heard it. And so did your dad, and your mum, and Remus and Peter, too.”

Harry moved away even as Sirius reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Harry shook free, looking at his godfather with hurt in his eyes. “I’m late – I’m supposed to meet Tonks and Feldman at the Leaky for patrol in five minutes.

Sirius let his arm drop to his side, giving up for the time being, at least. “It’s going to storm,” he called out as Harry hurried away. “You’ll want your raincoat.”

Harry turned his head. He wanted to stay mad at Sirius but it was nearly impossible. His godfather shrugged. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget you’re not a kid anymore, Harry.”

“I know. Sometimes I do, too,” he replied.

But he didn’t look back as he hurried out the door.

Sirius was right.

It did storm that night.

Harry hadn’t had time to go to his locker for his all-weather gear, and had appeared at the Leaky five minutes late with his standard patrol robes in hand and in a bit of a mood. Susan Bones was already there with Tonks and Feldman, appropriately dressed in her all-weather patrol robes. Tonks sent her off with Feldman and took a moment to gaze at Harry, arms crossed and lips pursed.

“Did you bother to look at the sky, Harry?” she asked.

“I got hung up with Sirius,” he answered. “I ran out of time. I’ll do an Impervius if it rains. It will have to do.”

“ _If_ it rains?” She sighed. “You’re going to have to reapply an Impervius a dozen times, Harry. You’re going to be soaked and miserable before this night is over. You’d better hope for a quiet night.”

Of course, it wasn’t a quiet night.

In fact, it was the least quiet night he’d ever had on patrol – and he’d been on shadow patrol duty with experienced Aurors for four months now.

He kept his mouth shut when the rain started in earnest only an hour into rounds. They were out of Knockturn Alley by that time, thankfully, for that street was even narrower than the others, with uneven flagstones and pitted walks that made everything more prone to flooding. Tonks did let him transfigure his pocket-handkerchief into a regulation – or near regulation – rain hat, but even with the hastily applied and oft-repeated charms, his boots were soaked through within an hour.

The rain was relentless, and foot traffic was much lighter than usual. They passed one nearly empty shop after another, moving up the street side by side, nodding to shop owners standing in doorways looking at the ominous thunderclouds and avoiding the pelting rain.

The only saving grace was that it wasn’t cold – though soaked clothing had a certain effect on skin, at least it wasn’t a bone-chilling one. Instead, Harry found that even oft-repeated drying charms couldn’t prevent the chafing. He _hated_ being chafed.

Tonks was relentless. Despite the lack of shoppers and the accompanying reduction in potential problems, she carried on with the foot patrol as if it were a sunny Sunday in May.

It was days like these that made Harry wonder if being an Auror was really what he wanted to do with his life.

He should have known better than to wish for a bit of excitement.

Because the excitement, when it came, had nothing to do with crime or criminals or any of the seedier elements of society. There were no Dark wizards lolling about, no shady spells cast from alleys, nothing but the overloaded gutters and already-stressed roof that extended over the walkway in front of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

Harry and Tonks were standing under the awning, having reached the end of the street on their third circuit. Tonks must have decided to have mercy on Harry, because she stopped under the awning and shook out her short hair. It seemed to spring back to life, looking pretty much as it always did.

“Why don’t you dry off, then renew that ImperviusCharm, Harry?” she suggested. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“I feel like one,” he muttered. He bent to pull off a boot, then made a show of pouring out half a liter of water from it onto the pavement.

She waited for him to drain the second boot, then utter a marginally effective Drying Charm and reapply the Impervius Charm to his robes and boots, before she stepped out onto the street.

He sighed and moved to follow her. He wasn’t quite fast enough.

With a crack that sounded very much like lightning, and a roar that could easily have been thunder, the roof went down.

It was already overstressed, the investigation later determined, by the much-larger-than-life replica of a sea-green, Hagrid-sized Pygmy Puff, and the water filling the gutters over capacity was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

And nearly broke Harry’s.

He didn’t remember the boards hitting his head, or the entire overhang tumbling down on top of him and around him. He only remembered being flat on his stomach on the pavement, and wondering where his glasses had gone to, and thinking that his head hurt and that, unbelievably, it seemed to have stopped raining.


	16. 24/7

He wouldn’t have lingered under the awning had he had his rain gear.

He wouldn’t have had to remove his boots and pour out a liter of water, either.

He definitely wouldn’t have been in such a piss-poor mood.

Thus, the whole thing was obviously Sirius’ fault.

Not that Harry was blaming anyone at the moment. The blow to the back of his head had been a particularly strong one, and once Tonks and George Weasley had levitated the roof off of him and ascertained – to their obvious relief and joy – that he’d survived the collapse, Tonks had sent a Patronus off to St. Mungo’s, and an emergency team had descended on him within minutes. By the time Harry woke, he’d been in hospital for several hours. He registered the smell of the air, the scratch of the sheets, the muted lights and sounds, then closed his eyes again and didn’t open them for six more hours.

And even after spending the next twenty-four hours at St. Mungo’s, his sentence wasn’t over. The hospital wouldn’t release him unless he agreed to stay with someone who could keep an eye on him twenty-four/seven for an entire week.

With his parents out of the country, Ron not due back for a week, and his friends all working or at school, his options were limited. He knew Mrs. Weasley would take him, but Ginny had gone right from Hogwarts to Quidditch tryouts and he didn’t think he could stand the complete focus of Molly’s mothering for an entire week. He’d have gone to Severus’ in a blink, but they’d taken his wand, as he was banned from using magic until he recovered, and he wasn’t about to ask Sirius to contact Severus for him. Not after seeing Sirius’ face the first time he visited. He looked completely devastated, and for a moment Harry wondered what they weren’t telling him about his injuries. He could move his arms and legs, see reasonably well, and seemed to have his mental faculties.

As it turned out, Sirius had spent hours outside his room, worried that Harry’s last memory of him would be the argument they had before Harry had gone to meet Tonks for patrol duty.

In the end, Harry agreed to go to Grimmauld Place and stay with Regulus and Ambrose for a week of medical leave.

The first thing he did once he was installed in Sirius’ old room on the fourth floor was to write a note to Severus. The accident had happened on Tuesday, and they’d had plans for Wednesday night. It was already noon Thursday, and he wondered, as he wrote, if Severus was worried about him, or angry that he hadn’t been in touch.

How could he have forgotten about _The Daily Prophet?_

The newspaper, the one which most of Wizarding Britain depended upon for its important Wizarding news, had more than a bit of a sensationalist flare. And an Auror trainee nearly killed by a giant Pygmy Puff was about as sensational a story as they were likely to get this year. And even though Harry had already been whisked away to St. Mungo’s when the reporter and photographer arrived at the joke shop, they recreated the scene, paying George’s shop boy to lie amid the rubble. Fortunately, George had plenty of fake blood in the shop to add additional colour to the grey and bleary shots.

It was Severus himself who showed him the newspaper article, later that evening when Harry rested in bed, propped up on a stack of pillows.

Grimmauld Place was infinitely older on the inside than the outside, and had been carefully and meticulously restored by Regulus when Sirius had deeded the home to him. Sirius had hated the old house so much that he could hardly bear to enter it after his mother died and he inherited it. The house, its contents, and the wizened old house-elf Kreacher, had all gone to Regulus. Harry heard the Floo in the parlour downstairs roar to life when Severus arrived, heard the murmur of low voices, heard Regulus and Severus’ footsteps on the wooden stairway as they walked up to his room.

He glimpsed Regulus behind Severus, saw that he had his hand on Severus’ arm, in fact, but he only smiled at Harry and turned to go back downstairs, and Severus took two steps into the room, dropping a small leather overnight bag onto a chair as he looked around the room, the frown on his face changing to something else, something like surprise, or even awe.

“Hi.” Harry scooted back marginally. He’d learned that even slight movement made his head throb. He squeezed his eyes shut until the pounding stopped – he probably should ask for another pain potion soon. “Merlin, it’s good to see you.”

“And I you. I was worried.”

Harry smiled.

“Thanks – for coming. For worrying. But I just gave Regulus a note to send you half an hour ago. You can’t have received it yet.”

Severus let his eyes travel to Harry. He walked toward him, not hurrying, and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.

“Regulus Floo-called me last night – after they decided to bring you here. Apparently he and his brother had a bit of a row about the advisability of calling me.”

Harry shook his head – just enough to set off the pounding again. “Regulus is fantastic. Did you meet Ambrose?”

“Not yet. I’m to have dinner with them while you rest. I wanted to see you first, though.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a folded newspaper. “Regulus tells me you haven’t seen this yet.” He unfolded the paper and held it up so that Harry could read it.

“Auror Trainee Crushed by Pygmy Puff?” Harry reached for the paper and jerked it toward him in horror. He stared at it then brandished it at Severus. “They make it look like that stupid Pygmy Puff was the size of my head. It was bigger than Hagrid, Severus. And it was the wood that took me out, not the stupid Pygmy Puff, anyway!”

Severus was grinning. Normally, Harry loved it when Severus smiled. But today he was fixated on the matter of his photograph in the newspaper.

“Hey! This isn’t even me. That’s Nigel, George’s assistant. He’s got a beard, Severus. A beard!”

“Harry, please. Did you want your picture in the _Prophet_? The article mentions you only briefly. Look – right here.” He pointed to a paragraph, then took the paper back from Harry to read aloud.

“’Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter of Godric’s Hollow, was accepted into the Auror Corps last June after finishing Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, he was known for his friendship with Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper, and for his love of flying. He was the youngest student to play Quidditch with his House team in a century, and is reported to have flown on a Hippogriff, as well as in an enchanted Muggle Ford Anglia.’”

“Oh, that,” muttered Harry.

“I remember hearing about that,” Severus said, folding the paper and dropping it onto the bedside table.

“My fifteen minutes of fame, as they say,” Harry said. “It was Ron’s dad’s car. We missed the Hogwarts Express second year and decided to take the flying car instead.”

“And how could you possibly _miss_ the Hogwarts Express?”

“Ron’s brothers locked us in the station loo and tricked the door so that Alohomora wouldn’t work.”

Severus bit back a smile. He studied Harry’s face then, and reached out and touched the swollen lump on the side of his head.

“You were lucky,” he said, face turning serious. “You could have been killed.”

Harry nodded to the two baskets of flowers on the desk on the opposite wall. One of them featured a toilet seat as a centerpiece. “George feels guilty. He’s apologizing with flowers.”

“George?”

“One of Ron’s brothers – one of the owners of the joke shop. His twin brother Fred runs their second shop in Hogsmeade.”

“Ah. Miscreants.”

Harry chuckled, then grimaced as his head pounded. “They’re troublemakers, but brilliant.” He glanced at the bag Severus had brought with him. “You’re staying tonight?” he asked, hopefully.

“Yes – Regulus has offered me another room if you don’t feel well enough to share your bed.”

“I feel well enough,” Harry said at once. “Well, well enough to sleep, anyway. The Healer gave me a pretty thorough list of don’ts before I left. Just about everything we’ve ever done, plus everything I was hoping we’d do soon, is covered under ‘no sexual activity of any kind.’”

“Hmmm.” Severus leaned down and brushed his lips over Harry’s. “I’m altering your potions regimen. We’ll have to reassess those instructions in a day or two.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Harry said. He blinked. “Have I already told you that?”

“More or less. How long has it been since you’ve had something for the pain?”

“I don’t know – sometime after lunch. I was going to ask Regulus when he ducked in, only you ducked in instead.”

Severus reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a small corked vial filled with a thick, bright blue liquid. He uncorked it and handed it to Harry.

“Bottoms up,” he said.

Harry downed it without comment.

“I could have just poisoned you,” commented Severus, lips twitching into a not-quite smile.

“Again?” Harry answered, making a face at the potion’s aftertaste. “Why would you do that?”

Their eyes met for a drawn-out moment.

“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Severus. “Perhaps so I could get my hands on your lovely neck and shove a bezoar down your throat?”

“Again?” repeated Harry groggily. He reached out toward Severus and touched his cheek lightly. “This isn’t just a pain potion, is it?”

“Strong pain potion, anti-inflammatory, mild sedative. Because you asked.”

Harry smiled and closed his eyes. “Don’t talk about me too much over dinner,” he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

***

Harry had dropped off to sleep within seconds, but Severus remained there, sitting on his bed, for some time.

He studied Harry first – not just the still-obvious lump on the side of his head, but his scraped face, which was healing rapidly, and the replacement spectacles that were smaller than his old pair and slightly more oval than round. They suited him – made him look a bit older. Harry was wearing a ridiculous pair of green silk pajamas with a monogrammed pocket. Ambrose’s, by the monogram. They were too big for Harry, and not at all Regulus’ style, at least not the Regulus Severus remembered.

He brushed wayward hair carefully out of Harry’s eyes, then stood and adjusted the too-tall stack of pillows. Harry would sleep better more reclined, he knew. And he wanted Harry to sleep for several hours – long enough for Severus to get through what could easily be an uncomfortable meal with Regulus Black.

His first lover.

True, it had been a fairly short affair – beginning at the end of his sixth year and ending when he left to start his Potions mastery in Italy. They’d been no more than randy teenagers, but they’d spent a good deal of time at this house, flaunting their relationship in front of Sirius.

He’d seen Regulus a time or two over those first seven or eight years after Hogwarts, but they’d lost touch at some point, as Severus immersed himself in his career and most of the connections he had to his old life drifted away. He’d been content, for a long while, to delve into his work and his research, to be satisfied with casual social connections he had, and the few friends, like Charity.

He looked around the room again. It was both everything that it had been and nothing like it at all. There wasn’t a trace of Sirius left in the room, though the furniture was in roughly the same places. It was as if the skin of the room had been peeled back, revealing original paint and fixtures and moulding that had long been covered by excessive layers of paint and stain and wallpaper. Better yet, the house was clean. Not shiny, not bright, not exactly welcoming – it was the House of Black, after all – but elegant and refined.

He pulled the covers up around Harry, feeling an odd tenderness that seemed somehow out of place, given this had been Sirius Black’s room at one time, and had the rather unsettling realisation that Harry was growing on him. That he liked having him around and missed him when he was gone. He couldn’t help but recall the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he’d seen the morning _Prophet_ yesterday. He’d feigned detached interest when he’d stopped by the MLE Classrooms to get an update from Tonks. She hadn’t been fooled one bit. He’d not known until she told him that she was Andromeda Black’s daughter. That Sirius and Regulus were her cousins.

She’d been the one to tell him where they were moving Harry, but Regulus had contacted him before he’d decided exactly what he wanted to do with that information.

He left Harry to sleep and went in search of his hosts.

The sight of Regulus had been a bit of a shock – though he’d seen his face, briefly, in the Floo prior to his visit. Regulus had aged well – no question about that. He looked more like Sirius than Severus remembered, which was both startling and vaguely unsettling. He had extended his hand to Severus as he stepped lightly from the Floo into the familiar sitting room, and had clapped him on the back and led him up to see Harry without preamble, chatting quietly on the way up as if they were old friends.

They _were_ old friends, of course.

Of course.

Now, he walked back into the corridor, glancing at the room across the passageway. It had been Regulus’ bedroom back in their schooldays, though he assumed he’d moved to one of the larger bedrooms now, one with an en suite and windows that opened onto one of the narrow balconies on which they’d once huddled in the middle of the night, spying on Sirius and the other Marauders in the gardens below.

Regulus was waiting in the sitting room, standing in front of the windows that faced the street. He turned to face Severus, gave him a slow once-over as he paused in the doorway, then picked up a glass from a serving tray and carried it over to him.

“And how is Harry?” he asked as he settled into one of the two chairs facing the loveseat. He crossed his legs, and Severus noted the fine trousers and dragon hide boots as Regulus’ robes fell to either side of his waist.

“Sleeping. And no longer in pain.” Severus sat on one end of the loveseat, cradling his glass. He let his gaze wander around the room. “You’ve remodeled.”

Regulus laughed. “You might say that,” he said. “Got rid of a few accessories, had a Wizarding historical architect come in and map out what the house looked like originally. We tried to get as close to that as possible. And we had other sources – old family photographs, letters, even a few drawings and paintings. The house has been in the family a long time – the rest of the neighborhood kind of grew up around it, you might say.” He took a drink of his scotch and idly tapped the fingers of one hand on the arm of the chair. “So – Harry.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow. “Ah. I thought that might come up.”

“My initial reaction is to approve of anything that makes Sirius’ blood pressure rise.”

“But…?”

“He’s young, Severus. And I’m terribly fond of him.”

“As am I. And I understand from Harry that your own partner is a bit older than you.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I should have realised Harry would have played that card already. Let’s say, then, that Harry is young _and_ inexperienced. You, on the other hand, are -”

“Old and moderately experienced,” Severus said.

“You said it – not I.” Regulus grinned, but his expression turned more sober. “Assure me you aren’t doing this for the reasons Sirius suspects.”

“This has nothing to do with Lily Evans,” Severus assured him, hating that this issue was going to keep rearing its ridiculously ugly head. “Though I must admit that Harry did inherit her most endearing physical trait.”

“Ah, yes. He does have the most beautiful eyes, doesn’t he?” Regulus sighed, then smiled to himself. “And I am allowed, Severus. To notice. So don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“I am also not pursuing Harry Potter because of a desire to get back at his father for stealing his mother from under my nose, nor for using my own spell against me and humiliating me in front of half the upper years. That’s water under the bridge and I hadn’t thought of it in years.”

“Yet it was all back in a flash the moment my brother got in your face.”

Severus didn’t answer. He sipped his scotch. It was particularly good scotch, and he glanced around the room but didn’t see a bottle. “Lily told Harry about our past.”

Regulus looked intrigued. “Did she? I wouldn’t think she’d still be bitter about that. Have you spoken to her?”

“I haven’t seen or spoken to Lily in years,” Severus admitted. “And for the record, I didn’t pursue her son. He apparently set his sights on me.”

Regulus grinned. “Ah, Harry. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, doesn’t he?”

“I appreciate his taste.”

Now Regulus laughed.

Severus scowled. “Dirty mind, as always, Regulus.”

Regulus shrugged. “He’s really quite something. I’ve known him since he was a boy, of course, and it took me by surprise when he realised the girls weren’t doing much for him. Ambrose and I took him out clubbing last summer. Opened his eyes a bit, I think. But until you came along, I’ve never seen him taken with any particular person. I really shouldn’t be surprised it’s you, though.” He sipped at his drink again. “Your brooding intensity is… appealing.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Such high compliments.”

Regulus changed the subject. “Ambrose is looking forward to meeting you. He’s putting dinner together now.”

Severus nodded. “Harry says you’ve been together for some time.”

“We have. You do know Harry’s the last of the Potter line, don’t you, Severus?”

Severus, completely caught off guard by the statement, splashed scotch on his robes.

Regulus smiled wryly. “Calls to mind your little research project, doesn’t it?”

“Even the most potent male fertility potion will not succeed in helping one of us impregnate the other,” Severus said with a wry smile.

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I was thinking – only after Harry met you and fell for your dark, brooding intensity, of course – about that baby boom the year after you left Hogwarts.”

Severus stood and walked to the window, looking out into the gardens below. He didn’t answer, so Regulus stood and walked over beside him.

“The Malfoys. The Longbottoms. Crabbe and Goyle. James and Lily. And all but James and Lily had been married – and childless – for some time. And all of them had boys – and none of them had a second child.”

Severus spoke softly, still looking out the window and down into the gardens instead of at Regulus. “The potion, as you undoubtedly recall, was designed to be given to wizards, and to increase both sperm count and sperm motility exponentially. That it damaged the seminiferous tubules in the testes was unfortunate and frankly, unforeseeable. And for the record, the Longbottoms conceived on their own.”

They stood silently, side by side facing the window, until Regulus spoke.

“You never published your results, Severus.”

“No – I did not. I intended to, but as I continued in my mastery, I found holes in my research, flaws in my methodology.”

Regulus laughed. “You were impeccable, Severus. I don’t believe you. You were afraid – afraid of the social implications of what you discovered.”

“I discovered nothing that we didn’t already know. The pureblood families are destined to die out unless fresh blood is brought in – half-bloods, Muggle-borns. Muggles themselves.”

“But your potion - ”

“Every child was a boy, Regulus. That first summer, and every child since. Boys cannot repopulate the Wizarding old families on their own, and are likely to inherit the same fertility problems that plagued their fathers. I’ve worked on it on and off for years now, and have discreetly sold it from time to time, but always to childless families who have spent five or more years trying to conceive, and always with the caveat that future children will likely be impossible. The potion works – the wizard who takes it normally succeeds in impregnating his female partner within three cycles providing she is fertile herself. But when the initial dosage wears off, these same wizards, who previously had low sperm counts or poor sperm motility, now produce virtually no sperm at all.”

“Does Lily know?” Regulus asked, frowning at Severus. “I imagine she came back to you at some point – for another dose.”

Severus nodded curtly. “She does. She did. She was devastated. She insisted on taking another dose with her anyway. Harry was not yet two years old at the time. I never saw her again.”

“You couldn’t have known, Severus. Not then. And she’d likely have given James the potion anyway.”

“She was eighteen at the time, Regulus. They were both eighteen. They could have tried for several years, possibly had a child on their own. Then, if they couldn’t conceive again, they could have tried the potion.”

“Did she only suspect that James was infertile? Or did you….?” He trailed off. The look on Severus’ face answered his unfinished question.

“She suspected it would be a problem, given his family history, and brought me a sample to test.”

Regulus looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but to his credit didn’t question how Lily had managed to get that sample. “Did James know?”

Severus shook his head. “Apparently not. She made me promise not to tell him – or anyone, for that matter. I took her at her word that the sample was his, and did not ask her how she’d managed to procure it. I didn’t want to know, though she was completely unapologetic about it. She stayed in the lab with me while I examined it – she even looked through the scope herself to observe. She was stoic enough when I delivered the news and seemed confident I’d be able to produce a potion to help them conceive.”

“And you did.”

Severus frowned. “When she came to get the potion from me some months later, she told me she’d repay me some day. She said she owed me – and I joked with her. I told her I’d only lay claim to her firstborn. We laughed about it, Regulus. I was not serious in any way.”

“Ahh.” Regulus stood, looking at Severus with an expression that Severus couldn’t quite interpret. “Well, let it go, at least for now. What’s done is done.” He smiled. “Stop thinking about it – and about the continuation of the Potter line.”

Severus sighed. He had to admit that, in any future he’d ever considered, there’d never been a child to raise. “Harry is barely nineteen. He has years to consider whether he wants a child, and with whom.”

“Ah – so you’re not serious about him, then. Good. He’s far too young for you.”

“You mean I’m far too old for him.”

They locked gazes. Regulus’ eyes were gleaming.

“That, too. And you’re so easy to rile up, Severus. If I didn’t want you seeing Harry, do you think I’d have invited you into our home? Come to dinner. Ambrose is waiting.”

Severus had no choice but to follow his host from the room.

He’d somehow forgotten how Regulus had always made his head spin.


	17. Far from the Child He'd Been

Harry slept through dinner, and dessert, and after-dinner drinks.

He woke, feeling rested and only mildly achy, when Severus sat on the bed beside him and cupped his cheek, running a finger over his lips.

Severus helped him up and to the loo, then settled him back in bed, propped on four pillows.

Kreacher popped in with a dinner tray and Severus placed it across Harry’s lap.

“More pasta,” Harry complained, nonetheless picking up his fork and taking a bite. He was getting a bit tired of the soft food, even though he realized that the intent was to give his jaw a rest so it didn’t aggravate his injury.

“Ambrose is an excellent cook.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Harry swallowed some shells and looked at Severus. “So?”

Severus shrugged. “He’s fine. A suitable partner for Regulus.”

“Were you surprised to learn what he does for a living?” He suppressed a smile. He’d never told Severus that Ambrose was a teacher.

“A Muggle community school teacher. Chemistry, no less.” Severus shook his head. “Muggle-born. A Ravenclaw.”

“What did you talk about?” asked Harry.

“You, mostly,” Severus said.

“Really? What about me?” Harry ate a spoonful of peas and looked at Severus curiously. He could only imagine the kind of conversation they’d had. Regulus and Ambrose were extremely protective of him. They’d likely given Severus a good grilling.

“Oh, everything about you. How young you are, how inexperienced, how you have your whole life in front of you and shouldn’t be taking up with an ugly old Potions master.”

“You didn’t either,” Harry said. He grinned, careful not to move his head too much.

“We did. They also discussed how hardheaded you can be, and how happy you’ve been the last couple months. Everyone is in agreement, though, that your godfather will never accept our relationship and will probably try to have me arrested and put in prison if you don’t see the light and break my heart.”

Harry sighed. “You know I’m not likely to do that, don’t you? You’ll have to be the one to break mine.”

“We also were interrupted during dinner by a Floo call – from your mother.”

“My mum? Did you talk to her?” Harry looked quickly at Severus’ face. He’d been dreading the first confrontation between Lily and Severus, wondering what old feelings might come to light when they were face to face.

“No – Regulus left to speak with her. She’ll be calling again in the morning – I’m to have you in the parlour by seven thirty. She wants to see you herself and not take Regulus at his word that you’re well on the road to recovery.”

“She worries,” Harry said, fondly. That was true – his mum _did_ worry about him. But she wasn’t really a worrier. She never smothered him, and always gave him plenty of room. She was quite a different type of mother than Molly Weasley. “They’ll be home in a couple weeks, just before my birthday.” He took another bite of pasta. “By the way, have I invited you to my party at the Burrow yet?”

“The Burrow?”

Harry swallowed. “Ron’s family’s house – that’s what everyone calls it. They’re Weasleys, remember? Weasels? Burrow?”

Severus shook his head and gave an exaggerated sigh. “How clever.”

“Git.” Harry flicked him with his big toe. It wasn’t an effective deterrent through the covers. “It’s outside of Ottery St. Catchpole – he’s got five brothers and a sister, so naturally the house is chaotic.”

“Naturally.”

“But they have a birthday party for me there every July 31st – though my birthday is really just a convenient excuse to have a party, nowadays. Everyone invites their friends. I’ve been hoping you’d agree to come with me this year.”

Severus stared at Harry a long moment. “So you decided to ask me when you’re sick and in pain and generally pathetic-looking so I couldn’t say no?”

“No, that was just a coincidence,” Harry said, flicking Severus’ thigh again with his toe. “So you’ll come?”

“Black will be there? And your parents?”

“And Remus and Tonks and Teddy, probably Andromeda and Ted, some of my friends from Hogwarts. Dumbledore usually comes – he grew up in Godric’s Hollow, you know, and my parents have known him forever. Hagrid, of course. All the Weasleys. Regulus and Ambrose. Luna always brings her dad – he’s a nutter but harmless. Professor Slughorn was there last year. Kingsley is hit or miss-”

“The Minister of Magic?”

“Do you play Quidditch?”

“Quidditch?” Severus was still trying to get his mind around the Minister of Magic sitting in a ragtag chair at this Burrow eating birthday cake. “No – I mean, not anymore. I played at Hogwarts but I wasn’t good enough for the House team.”

Harry grinned. “Do you think you still have it in you?”

Severus narrowed his gaze warily. “I don’t have a broom.”

“Oh, Dad supplies the equipment,” Harry said. “Just wear something loose and comfortable.”

Severus watched Harry finish the rest of his meal, then removed the tray. “Fine. I will attend your birthday party. I am not, however, promising to get on a broom. And I think it would be wise for us to visit your parents – together – before you toss me into the fray at this event.”

He leaned down and unfastened a boot, then removed it, and started on the other. Harry settled back to watch him as he dropped the boots and started unbuttoning his robe, removing it, at last, and draping it over the footboard of the bed. His trousers came off next and he draped them on top of his robes. In socked feet, boxers and vest, he carefully crawled over and around Harry to the other side of the bed.

“I will require pillows,” he said, carefully removing two from Harry’s stack and helping Harry rearrange himself.

“I suppose I shouldn’t ignore Healer’s orders and shag you,” Harry tried.

“Oh, by all means, give it a go,” Severus answered. “I’ll just lie here and think of England.”

Harry managed to turn his head a fraction. “That is what’s next, isn’t it?” he asked. Severus’ hair was curtaining his face and Harry reached out and tucked a few strands behind his ear. He caressed Severus’ cheek with his thumb, and Severus surprised him by catching the end of the thumb in his lips, drawing it into his mouth and laving it with his tongue.

“When you’re recovered – yes. I’d like that. But I have no intention of lying on my back and letting you maul me.”

“Maul you?” Harry brushed his thumb over Severus’ lips again.

“Maul me,” confirmed Severus. “I will, in fact, be giving you instruction. Teaching you. I can’t leave something this important to…chance.”

“I know a bit about it,” Harry said. He trailed his hand down until he found Severus’ hand. He held on to it, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve…read some things.”

“Have you, now?”

“Hmmm.”

Harry closed his eyes. The last time he’d slept over here he was on Christmas break from Hogwarts. He was twelve, and his mum had gone to meet his dad at a Quidditch tournament in South Africa, and they weren’t to be back until a day after term ended. Regulus had met him on Platform 9 ¾, and they’d come back here to Grimmauld Place.

He remembered that they’d played British Rails on the old kitchen table, and Ambrose had popped popcorn on the stove, the Muggle way with a covered pan and heated oil. He’d wanted to sleep in Sirius’ old room, and Regulus didn’t seem upset at all about this, and had shown him to this very room and turned down this very same bed. The house was old, full of shadows and echoes and strange creaks and groans, and Harry had lain there, staring at a spot on the ceiling that might have been a spider, and hadn’t fallen asleep for a very, very long time.

But with Severus here, lying beside him in the guest bedroom at Grimmauld Place, with the muffled sounds of Regulus and Ambrose just a floor below in their own bedroom, he didn’t feel like a scared boy any more.

He felt comfortable, despite his still very sore head. Peaceful, in the quiet night, with Severus’ hand in his own.

How different the house felt with the warm weight of Severus beside him.

How different _he_ felt. How far from the child he’d been.


	18. Pitter Patter

Harry felt a lot better in the morning and, at five minutes before nine, was settled on the old loveseat in front of the fire, waiting for his mum’s Floo call. Severus had holed up in the kitchen with a pile of books and journals and a ready supply of tea. It was Friday – technically a workday for him, though in all honesty, every day was a workday when you were your own proprietor.

Lily was prompt. At seven-thirty on the dot, the Floo flared and her head appeared in the flames.

“So you are alive,” she said. She blew him a kiss and shook her head fondly.

“Just be glad you don’t get the _Prophet_ over there,” he returned with a grin.

“Oh, Sirius held it up for me,” she said. “Honestly, we know things are calm at home if they have to make news out of something like this.” She tilted her head a fraction and stared at her son. “You look good, Harry. Well, except for that Bludger-sized lump on your head. So, where are you hiding Severus?”

Harry pretended to be offended. “I thought you were worried about me.”

Lily smiled. “I’m always worried about you. It’s my job.”

“One of your jobs. You get to worry about Dad too – and find time for your research and writing.”

“Well, I’d have to worry about you more if you’d hooked up with a group of friends like the Mauraders,” she said. “Thankfully, your set limited its death-wish to the Quidditch pitch. So, where _have_ you put Severus?”

Harry sighed. “He’s in the kitchen.” He thought of something, then, and narrowed his eyes. “Why? Do you want to see him?”

She shook her head. “No – not now, anyway. I just think it best that we’re not overheard for this next part.”

“Next part?” Harry leaned forward. His head throbbed but he squeezed his eyes shut a moment and tried to ignore it. This was important. He had to draw a line, make his parents understand that his relationship with Severus wasn’t negotiable “Mum – I know he’s older than me. I get it. I know there’s some bad blood between you and Dad and Severus. But that was twenty years ago and you’re going to have to get over it – he certainly has. And I like him. He likes me. And I’m going to keep seeing him….what?” He paused – staring at his mum, who was looking at him fondly, her smile lighting her eyes. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Oh, Harry. I like him, too. I might not be convinced he’ll be good for you, but it will be _his_ job, not yours, to convince me. But that’s not really what I want to talk about right now. I have something else I want to tell you, actually.”

He sat up a bit straighter, trying to read his mother’s face. She looked happy, relaxed. He met her smile with one of his own. “Not bad news, I take it. What’s going on?”

“It seems -” she began, trailing off when the words apparently wouldn’t come.

“What?” Harry instinctively leaned forward. “Just say it.”

“It seems – it seems I’m pregnant,” she said, letting the words out in a single, rushed breath.

Harry blinked.

His mouth dropped open but no words came out.

_Pregnant?_

“Surprise?”

He blinked again. Words were trying to form now.

“Baby,” he managed, looking gobsmacked. “A baby brother. Or sister. You – Dad – having a baby.”

“You’re babbling,” his mum said. “But yes, you’ve got the gist of it anyway. Your father participated in a virility rite with one of the native groups we visited. They had brewed a draught – I suppose we’d call it a potion of some sort, though they all drank from the same ladle dipped in the pot. Apparently, it worked.”

“It worked.” He _really_ was out of his depth here. His dad drank a virility potion? “Good?”

“Oh – yes! Harry, we’re thrilled. Shocked, of course. I’ve known for a few weeks and it’s really taken me that long to get used to the idea. Your dad is a wreck, of course – he was just the same when I was pregnant with you all those years ago.”

Harry grinned. He could imagine his dad dealing with this. “I’ll take him off your hands whenever you need a break once you get back. We’ll go out for a pint.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad this didn’t happen when you were two.” She smiled, then turned a bit more serious. “Dear - we did want a brother or sister for you when you were small. It just – well, it just didn’t happen for us.” She frowned, and there was something in the way she sighed that made him take notice.

“Mum – it’s fine, really. Ron’s the only friend I have with lots of brothers and sisters.” Something occurred to him then. “Wait – does Ron know about this? Are you – I mean – can people tell…?”

“No, and no.” She frowned at him. “Harry, really – do you think we’d tell anyone before we told our own son?”

“Right. Good. I mean – yeah.” He grinned again – the news was starting to become a bit more real for him, nearly palpable. It might take him some months to really take it all in, but he figured he’d have nearly seven before his hand was forced.

His mum looked like she wanted to tell him something, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. She gave him a wan sort of smile. “We didn’t think this would ever happen, especially not after all this time,” she began. “And we don’t _know_ that the ceremony your dad took part in had anything to do with it. It might have been – well, coincidence, I suppose.”

“Really? Wow. Severus might be interested in that. Next thing you know he’ll be hauling off to Brazil to do research.”

A look crossed her face then – another one he couldn’t interpret. Oh. Severus. Still a sore subject – he’d already forgotten Ron’s letter. But then his mum smiled. “I’m sure you can’t keep this news from him – so do tell him. I think he’ll be a bit shocked himself.”

“I’m not shocked,” Harry protested. But he chuckled, then winced as his head pounded. “Well, maybe just a bit.”

She bit her bottom lip – in the exact way he did when he was nervous. “We really thought you’d be happy about a new brother or sister. I know you’re all grown up, but – ”

“No – Mum – I _am_ excited. It’s great news – really. You and Dad must be thrilled. Are you feeling alright? You’re not overdoing it- are you?”

“I’m fine – sleeping a lot – I’m not as young as I used to be. But really, Harry – you will get used to the idea, won’t you?”

“Of course. It’s brilliant – really. I’m going to be a big brother.” He smiled, even though his head was really starting to pound again. “I’ve already had lots of practice with Teddy.”

“Oh – you have, haven’t you? So you’ll babysit for us, too, then?” She winked at him.

He grinned back. “Tell Dad I’m excited. But tell him not to drink stuff unless he’s sure what’s in it from now on. You might end up with triplets or something.”

A look flitted over her face – a look he couldn’t fully decipher.

“You’re – you’re not having triplets, are you?” he asked.

She laughed. “No – nor twins, either, I think. Listen – Harry – can you keep the news from everyone but Severus? We know you’ll tell him, no matter what we ask, and that’s fine. Really, it is,” she reassured him. “But we’d like to tell everyone else at your birthday party.”

“Sure. You take care, Mum. Can’t wait to see you back here.”

_Wow._

As his mum’s head disappeared from the Floo, he dropped his own head back softly to the sofa cushion behind him. He closed his eyes against the renewed pounding in his head.

Wow.

A million thoughts were racing through his sore head. He was going to have a brother or sister. His mum was pregnant. _Pregnant!_ His parents were starting a new family at the same time that he was leaving the nest to forge his adult life.

Their attention might be focused elsewhere for a while as they dealt with the realities of parenthood again at their age. The problem – in their minds – of Harry and Severus might lose importance as they dealt with nurseries and names and schedules.

He had a vague idea, too, that Severus _would_ be interested in this fertility or virility ceremony and the mysterious draught. Hadn’t he mentioned, that time they’d gotten into the discussion about morality and ethics, that he used the ingredients from the Forbidden Forest in a virility potion that he sold to fund his other research?

Regulus was the first one to pop his head into the room.

“Hey – everything alright with your mum, then?” he asked. “Ready to get back to your room?”

Harry rolled his head to face the doorway.

“She’s good – just being a mum is all. And no – I’d rather stay here.”

“Alright,” Regulus said. “Breakfast then – and I’ll ask Severus if he wants to come up and join us.”

Breakfast was a quiet affair, with Severus and Harry on the loveseat together while Regulus settled into one of the ornate armchairs facing them. Harry rested his throbbing head against Severus’ shoulder and didn’t say too much. The only thing on his mind, of course, was the surprising news from his mum, and she’d asked him not to share it with anyone but Severus.

He got his chance soon enough, as Severus helped settle him in bed after Regulus left to run errands and Kreacher came to clean up.

“My mum had some news,” he said as Severus handed him his pain potion. “She’d like to share it herself when she gets home, but she didn’t ask me not to tell you. It was almost as if she _wanted_ me to tell you, in fact.”

“Oh?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “You’re obviously eager to tell me – why keep me in suspense any longer?”

“Oh – I don’t know,” said Harry mischievously. “Why don’t you try to guess?”

“She and your father are moving to Peru to start up an alpaca ranch,” Severus deadpanned.

“Not even close,” said Harry. He laced his fingers with Severus’ as he downed the potion. “Try again.”

“Your father has been offered a position as Quidditch coach for the Montevideo Monstruos and will be staying in South America for the next four years.”

“Any reason all of your guesses have my parents staying in South America?” asked Harry. He tugged on Severus’ hand. “Why don’t you lie down here with me for a while?”

Severus took the empty potion vial and placed it on the bedside table, then toed off his house shoes and crawled onto the bed, tucking himself in behind Harry. Harry sighed as Severus’ arms tightened around him.

“That’s much better. And it’s probably a good thing you’re lying down when you hear this, anyway.”

“Oh? There aren’t problems – between them, I mean?”

“No – nothing like that.” Harry sighed and pressed back against Severus. “I haven’t really absorbed it all myself yet, actually. Are you ready?”

“Out with it – you’ve drawn it out long enough already.”

“Mum’s pregnant.”

He really hadn’t considered how Severus might react. Perhaps with disbelief. Certainly with surprise, or with humour – a laugh at Harry’s attempt at a joke.

But behind him, Severus was very still. He seemed to be holding his breath, and for a long moment, Harry held his as well. Finally, Severus exhaled. His arms shifted and he pulled Harry back against him, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulders.

“Pregnant,” Severus said. He kept his voice low. “You are certain she told you this?”

Harry snorted. “Do you think I could possibly have misunderstood _that_?” he asked. “She’s pregnant – and apparently she and dad are really surprised about it. She said they’d always wanted another child but couldn’t have one.”

“Ahh. So this is happy news for them?” Severus continued in that same steady, low voice right behind Harry’s ear.

“Yeah. I told her that next thing I knew, you’d be heading off to the Amazon rainforest to do your own research. She said Dad took part in some sort of fertility ritual with a native group – drank a draught with them. It’s probably just a coincidence - ”

“A fertility ritual?” Severus rubbed his chin into Harry’s shoulder. “Intriguing.” His fingers worked under the waistband of Harry’s pajama bottoms and he rubbed a hand over Harry’s hip, the curve of his arse. “So you’re going to have a brother or sister.”

“Yeah.” Harry blew out a breath. “We’ll be nearly twenty years apart in age. I’ll be more like an uncle to the kid.” They lay still for a moment, Harry sighing as Severus’ hand continued to slowly caress him beneath the fabric of this pajamas. “I don’t even remember ever asking them why I didn’t have brothers or sisters. I just kind of assumed that I was all they wanted.”

“It’s quite common in the Wizarding world to have only one child,” said Severus after a lengthy pause. “I have no siblings myself.”

“Dad’s an only child too,” Harry commented. “Ron’s the only friend I have who comes from a big family. Most of my friends have only one brother or sister if they have any at all.”

“Well, it certainly is big news,” Severus said. “It will be difficult to keep it to yourself until your parents return.”

“Two weeks,” Harry said. “I just hope I get used to the idea before I see them. I mean – my mum – pregnant. It’s hard to get my mind wrapped around that.” He chuckled. “Well, if nothing else, it should keep the focus off of me for a while.”


	19. Hermione Digs In

Severus lay quietly behind Harry for a long while after Harry had fallen asleep.

This news – was most unexpected. Surprising was hardly the word. Impossible. Incredible. Unbelievable.

Remarkable.

His first thought, ridiculous or not, was that James Potter couldn’t possibly be the father of this baby.

But he discarded that conclusion almost immediately. Lily was happily married to James, had been for nearly twenty years. If she was pregnant, James Potter was the baby’s father.

She had believed, as had he, that the first fertility potion she’d accepted from him, the one that had resulted in her pregnancy with Harry, had rendered James permanently infertile. His low sperm count had been boosted by the potion to even higher-than-normal levels, enough for Lily to achieve pregnancy soon after he’d taken it. But the potion had a side effect no one had suspected, the one he and Regulus had discussed yesterday when he had arrived here. The boost was a one-time effect, and the hormonal surge damaged the sperm-producing seminiferous glands beyond recovery.

But maybe – just maybe – the recovery period was just exceedingly long. Long enough that for most men, their wife or significant other would have moved past childbearing age before the glands began producing sperm again. Or at the very least the woman would be of an age that made conception difficult from the female side, as well.

What had been Lily’s intent in her willingness for Harry to share this surprising news with Severus?

He would have to tell Harry. This was just too big to contain, and would eventually come back to bite him.

He imagined the conversation now.

_You owe your very existence to my illegal forays into the Forbidden Forest to harvest the Madcap mushrooms I used in the fertility potion I developed. And – I might add – developed faster, with fewer controls, than I might have had my former best friend not been so desperate to conceive so quickly._

He’d understood at the time, had even sympathised – Lily’s father had just been diagnosed with ALS – a Muggle neurodegenerative disease. She wanted him to know her child and, given the results of the analysis of James’ sperm sample, was convinced it wouldn’t happen on its own in the time her father had left.

He remembered suggesting, at the time, that they see a Muggle fertility specialist. She’d given him an incredulous look. “Right, Severus. I’ll do that. Tell him I brought a sample of his sperm to you and your analysis shows we’re basically incapable of conceiving.”

In the end, Severus had been able to give her what she wanted. He had no idea how long Lily’s father had lived, or if Harry had any memories of him.

***

Harry recovered fairly quickly under Severus’ care with his specialized potions, and was back at work on Wednesday just in time for the first day of Muggle Methods of Defense class. He returned to his flat, a bit worse for wear from being pinned to the floor with Ernie’s knee in his back between his shoulder blades, just minutes before Ron stumbled out of the Floo.

“I’m taking a Muggle aeroplane next time,” Ron moaned, collapsing onto the sofa.

“What – no stomach for International Flooing?” said Harry from the kitchen. “Welcome home, mate.”

“What happened to this place?” asked Ron, looking around. “You didn’t let Hermione come in and throw out all my old socks and pants, did you?”

“Nope.” Harry settled onto the armchair across from the sofa. “I invited Dobby and Kreacher over. So – where’s my souvenir?” he asked with a grin.

“Give a bloke a minute, would you?” moaned Ron. He took a couple of deep breaths, then reached into his pocket and pulled out something purple and tossed it to Harry.

“Very funny,” said Harry, catching the Pygmy Puff plushie embellished with “Copa del Mundo” then throwing it back at Ron. It bounced off his head and landed near the fireplace.

“Hey! That was expensive! It sings the Bolivian national anthem!” But he smirked at Harry. “You don’t look too bad for a bloke who just spent a week in bed.”

“A boring week,” Harry complained.

“What – Regulus didn’t let Severus visit?” asked Ron.

“He visited – even stayed over on the weekend. He replaced all the potions St. Mungo’s sent with his own – I was feeling fine by Sunday morning, so Regulus put me to work on his genealogy project. Do you know how boring it is cataloguing photographs of tombstones?”

“No, and thank Merlin for it,” Ron answered. He narrowed his gaze. “And don’t put any ideas into Mum’s head. She’s always talking about her ancestors in Wales, and I don’t want to start traipsing around graveyards with Colin Creevey.”

They laughed. “Ginny told me he got picked up by the _Prophet_ as a sports photographer,” Ron said. “Guess he got over his pash for you.”

Harry groaned. “He knew I was gay before _I_ knew I was gay,” he said.

Ron stood up. “I need a shower. Hermione’s coming over in a bit to welcome me home. So make yourself scarce, right?”

“Nope. Here for the duration. Close the door and keep the noise down,” Harry said, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

Ron struggled to his feet with an exaggerated effort. “Well, the least you can do is order pizza,” he said as he walked down the corridor toward his bedroom. “Hey – it’s clean in here, too. You didn’t use my bed…?”

“Oh, sorry about that, mate,” Harry called back. “Used yours once we christened mine. You’re okay with that? Since we’re best mates?”

“Wanker,” Ron said. “At least it’s clean – your parents are coming home next Wednesday. I expect you’ll be hearing a lot from them once they realize how tight you are with Severus.”

“Mum already knows,” Harry said. He stood in the doorway to Ron’s room while Ron resized his duffel bag and started dumping it out on his bed.

“She’s obsessed with it,” Ron told him. “I told her I hadn’t even met the chap yet, but that if you liked him, that was enough for me. You like him still, don’t you?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I like him. Still. He took me to Paris while you were gone – we Flooed into one of his friends’ apartments. Someone you know.”

Ron looked back at him. “Someone I know? Really? Who?”

“One of our Hogwarts professors.”

“Really? Not Trelawney? Say it wasn’t ol’ Sybil.”

“Nope. Not Trelawney.”

“Hagrid?”

“In an apartment in Paris? Are you insane, Ron?”

“Just tell me.”

“Burbage.”

Ron spun around, mouth agape. “What? Charity Burbage? Really?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, really. Surprise, eh?”

“Take me next time – we can double-date.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn’t think it was his business to tell Ron that Professor Burbage wasn’t interested in blokes. “Sure. Hermione coming along too?”

“Oh, she’d understand. I mean – Harry. It’s Burbage!”

The week passed quickly enough after that. With Ron back in town and Harry cleared for work and Auror classes, he had friends to grab a pint with after work on Thursday. And on Thursday night, back at the flat, Hermione cornered him and managed to get him to agree to dinner on Saturday night – with Severus.

“I need to clear this with him first,” he’d said.

As it turned out, Severus had no problem meeting Harry’s friends for dinner.

Harry had chosen a pub not too far from their flat, with limited but predictably good fare, and a quiet corner or two away from the darts and the bar and the telly blaring football. He could have predicted that Hermione and Severus would hit it off, but the surprise was that Ron quickly became engaged in the conversation as well.

The only one _not_ comfortable with the conversation seemed to be Harry.

When and how had Hermione dug so quickly into Severus’ past research? Before he knew it they were deep into a discussion about infertility in the pureblooded Wizarding population. Why hadn’t Harry known that this topic was something that both Ron and Hermione found particularly interesting?

“You’re normal, Harry. You and your family. That’s why you don’t think about it,” Ron said. “Most of our friends come from families of only one or two kids.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I can think of one exception,” he said pointedly.

“Right. One. That’s just it – how many other Wizarding families do you know with even three children?”

“Um – well, Tonks’ mum has two sisters.”

“Alright. That’s one family.”

“It’s definitely an exception to the general rule,” Severus said. “Especially among the pureblood families.”

“I’ve always thought there was more to it than preference,” Hermione said. “Look at your dad, Harry. Your grandparents were well into their forties when he was born. Draco Malfoy is an only child – Crabbe and Goyle…”

“Crabbengoyle,” muttered Ron. “I can see why _their_ parents stopped after one. Probably scared to death they’d repeat the mistake.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and Harry shook his head.

“Cho Chang, Oliver Wood, Romilda Vane, Susan Bones, Neville….”

“So what are you saying?” Ron asked. “That most pureblood parents dry up once they produce one child?”

Severus, pint glass raised to his lips, nearly choked on his beer.

“That’s one way to put it,” he said.

“I’ve actually read your N.E.W.T. research, Severus,” Hermione said, giving Ron one of her those fond smiles she reserved for him when he was at his most awkward. “I looked it up at the Ministry after Harry told us he was seeing you. I’d heard of you of course – the youngest person in a hundred years to earn a Potions mastery. Did you even know that, Harry?”

“Only after you told me,” he reminded her.

She blushed slightly, but forged ahead.

“Severus’ observation was that the families of Muggle-born students were larger, on average, than the size of families where at least one parent was magical. When both parents were magical, the average number of children dropped even more.”

“Lots of things could influence that,” Harry said. “Wizarding culture, for one. The difficulties involved in raising a single magical child as opposed to raising a non-magical child.”

Severus gave him a speculative look. “You’ve given it thought before?”

“No, not really. But –”

“But you have the mind of a researcher, a scientist.”

“My mum is one, you realize,” Harry said, giving Severus a little kick under the table.

“Sometimes a couple wait a few years before they try to get pregnant,” Ron said. “And then don’t find out until they’re already older that things aren’t working right.”

“Exactly. But Severus proposed measuring the sperm count and assessing the sperm motility of a variety of wizards to see if something else was at play. It was really a fascinating proposal – far beyond what most Hogwarts students would attempt.”

“I wasn’t the most popular of students,” Severus said, looking across to find Harry staring at him and raising an eyebrow. “I had plenty of spare time on my hands.”

“What’s most interesting is that you published results of your testing but not conclusions,” Hermione said. She picked up her wine glass and took a drink, then set it back on the table carefully. When she spoke again, she kept her voice low. “You intended to create a potion to improve sperm count and sperm motility in Wizarding males, but if you succeeded, there’s no record of such a potion being available today. Most infertility treatments in the Wizarding world focus on the witch.” She sighed. “And infertility which involves only the woman accounts for only thirty-five percent of all cases of infertility – in Muggle couples, anyway.”

“Well, Mum always told us to stop all the broom riding well before we wanted to have kids,” Ron put in.

Hermione stared at Ron, then put her hand over her mouth to hide a giggle.

“Actually, that’s not a bad suggestion,” Severus said. “All that compression and friction can overheat the testes and reduce sperm production.”

“Are we really having this conversation at dinner?” Harry asked. He glanced over at Hermione. “And in mixed company?”

“Well, it’s not like you bring Severus around to the flat when I’m there,” Hermione said.

They laughed, and she turned to Severus again.

“So – _did_ you develop a potion?”

“Wait.” Suddenly, things were beginning to sort themselves out in Harry’s head, scattered information falling into slots as he realised exactly what Severus had been up to in the Forbidden Forest. “You said you were collecting mushrooms in the Forbidden Forest for a virility potion – that the mushrooms acted as an aphrodisiac.” He stared at Severus. He wasn’t angry – he thought he understood why Severus hadn’t been totally forthright with him. “You found that grove when you were at Hogwarts, didn’t you?”

He looked across at Severus, who looked vaguely uncomfortable.

“Guilty as charged,” Severus said, looking into his pint glass.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Harry said. “Just trying to understand.” He smiled, but the wheels were still turning as he thought, suddenly, of his mother.

“I made the potion,” Severus said, his voice low even though they had a quiet corner all to themselves tonight. “It had unforeseen side-effects. I still make it on occasion now, but only for recipients who understand its limitations and are willing to live with them. It is not a cure-all to the problems the Wizarding world has created for itself, but simply a means for some to achieve a long-wanted pregnancy. We will have to leave it up to the lucky families like the Weasleys to reverse the unfortunate tendencies.”

“I’d love to hear about it sometime,” Hermione said. She looked both perplexed and intrigued. “Have you tried to control for the side-effects?”

“How could he?” said Ron, surprising Harry as he jumped right into the fray. “I mean, who’s going to volunteer when it means messing with your junk?”

The corner of Severus’ mouth lifted and Ron grinned back.

“It isn’t the focus of my life,” Severus said, addressing Hermione. “The potion has brought me income that has helped me advance my business – purchase equipment and ingredients. The side-effects are not as dire as you might imagine, either. The problem is that the potion is effective only one time – it increases sperm count and motility for several weeks, then the effect tapers off and sperm production ceases.”

“But not…?” Ron lifted an eyebrow.

“All other functions remain intact,” Severus assured him.

“It must be a matter of dosage,” Hermione mused. “If you aren’t interested in seeing this through – or if you don’t have the time – why not pass it off to another team? Surely there are others you trust.”

“I did not think the Wizarding world was ready for the results of my study twenty years ago, nor do I think it is ready now,” Severus said. “Ideas – prejudices – about blood purity are deeply held by many. To put this before the traditional Wizarding public may cause a backlash and I, personally, do not want to be standing in its wake.”

“What kind of backlash?” Harry asked. He was giving Severus his undivided attention now, and Severus held his gaze as he answered.

“Imagine that you are the father of a pureblood witch – meaning, of course, that you yourself are the son of a pureblood witch and wizard. And imagine that you are told that your daughter should marry a Muggle-born, or a half-blood, to introduce stronger genetic variance into the Wizarding population. What would your reaction be?”

“My dad did marry a Muggle-born,” Harry answered.

“The problem I identified manifested itself mainly in pureblood wizards,” Severus explained. “Low sperm counts and poor sperm motility, passed down from wizard father to wizard son. Breaking the cycle involves pureblood witches producing children with fathers who do not have this defect, introducing more genetic variety into the population.”

“Well, obviously not every pureblood family is affected,” Ron said.

“No – not all, as evidenced by the prolific Weasleys. But many are, to the extent that conception is difficult to achieve, and the birth of the first – and often only – child often occurs many years into the marriage.”

“Like my dad,” Harry said. He really wanted to get out of this restaurant and go somewhere private where he could ask Severus the question that he really didn’t even need to ask anymore.

“I hate to say this – I really do – but I think you’re right,” said Hermione. “I mean, you were right then and you’re still right now. The Wizarding world won’t accept your results, though they need to. The old elite already has an aversion to the dilution of blood purity.”

“To the detriment of Wizarding society,” said Severus. “But the problem will work itself out, you realize. The pool of available pureblood candidates for marriage will shrink as the male infertility problem worsens.”

“The potion,” began Harry. He looked around the table and cleared his throat. “When a wizard takes your potion and his wife conceives – does he pass on the fertility problems to his child?”

“The potion does not repair the problem that causes the man in question to be unable to produce sufficient viable sperm to achieve conception. There is a two and a half month cycle, start to finish, in sperm production. The potion works at the beginning and middle of this cycle, resulting in sufficient sperm of adequate quality for several production cycles – no more than a month or so.”

“Can you imagine McGonagall standing up there giving us this lecture?” asked Ron, clearly in awe.

“I can’t imagine Professor McGonagall saying the word ‘sperm,’” said Harry.

“It’s fascinating,” Hermione said. “These are the kinds of biology lessons we’d have learned at Muggle school. I’m going to have to sign up for a biology class at uni.”

“You do that for the both of us,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Harry smiled but didn’t comment further, then Hermione went on for a bit about Severus’ decision not to publish his results. It was clear that his interest in the matter had waned over the years, fueled only by the financial gain he was able to achieve through occasional sale of the potion. He had a Muggle father himself – his pureblood mother had done exactly what he himself would have recommended had he published his study results.

But Harry wasn’t finished with the subject. He walked with Severus back to his flat while Ron and Hermione went back to her place, but waited until they were inside and the door closed before taking a deep breath and facing Severus.

“Was my dad part of your study? Your N.E.W.T. Potions project?” he asked quietly.

He watched Severus’ face, and knew the answer immediately.

“Harry – I cannot – cannot say. I promised ….”

“Well – that’s the answer then, isn’t it?”

They stared at each other, then Harry turned away and moved toward the kitchen.

“Tea. We need tea.”

“We don’t need tea. We need to talk about this.”

“Over tea,” Harry said.

“Are you upset because I didn’t tell you earlier?”

Harry shook his head as he pulled the tea from a cabinet. “No – it’s not that. And really, I’m fine. It’s just weird. My parents coming to you for help. You making this potion. The whole thing resulting in – well, me.”

“That was hardly my intent.” Severus stood in the sitting room facing Harry, arms folded across his chest.

Harry scoffed. “Well, I hope not. That would be… creepy.”

“That’s one word for it.”

Harry pointed his wand at the kettle and it immediately began whistling. “And don’t you think it odd that you were arrested for harvesting ingredients for this potion in the Forbidden Forest twenty years later _and_ your resulting punishment put you in a room with me?”

Now Severus grinned. “Odd? No. Fortunate. Yes. I’d call it karma.”

Harry poured steaming water into the teapot. Karma. This whole thing was so weird – just thinking of his parents knowing they wouldn’t be able to have children. Going to Severus for help – Severus, who’d loved his mum. Severus, who’d been thrown over for his dad. “They must have been really desperate to come to you,” he said.

Severus stared at him. Neither spoke for a long moment.

“I know you didn’t mean that how it came out,” Severus said at last.

“Oh.” Harry shrugged. He was staring at the empty mugs and the steaming teapot. He smiled wanly. “You know I wasn’t talking about your Potions ability,” he said. “I just meant that you’d had a falling out with Mum, and you certainly weren’t close to Dad.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Severus said.

“Did you call her a Mudblood?” Harry suddenly asked, his tongue tripping over the word he so disliked.

Severus jerked his head up and stared at Harry. “Who…?” he began, but he stopped and dropped his head, staring into his tea. “It was unforgivable,” he said. “I have no excuse other than I was young, and frustrated, and hurt by the actions of your father and his friends.”

Harry swallowed. “I hate that word,” he said. But he remained where he was. Remus had said there were two sides to every story. He needed to hear Severus’, too.

“I have not uttered it since,” Severus quietly stated.

“Did she forgive you? Mum?” Harry asked, his eyes as intense as Severus’ as he stared at him, waiting for an answer.

“Ultimately – yes. She did. But I ruined our friendship and sealed my fate.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. He looked up again at Severus. “The first time I argued with Sirius – about you – I told him that you weren’t kids anymore. That people change. I need to give you the same benefit of the doubt I asked him to give you.”

Severus simply nodded. “I appreciate that. It is – good – generous – of you to do so. I will not make the same mistake twice.”

“But there’s something I still don’t understand,” Harry began, eager to move away from the topic now that he’d talked himself through it. “Mum and Dad - they were young. Why wouldn’t they have tried for a while? And why would they even have thought they might have a problem? I mean – damn it, Severus – they were what? Eighteen? Who wouldn’t give it a go first? A year or two at least? I was born when they were nineteen. They got married that summer after they left Hogwarts, so they’d have only been married a couple months before I was conceived.” He looked at Severus, realization hitting him. “Merlin, Severus, they’d had to have started this whole process before they were even married!”

“I think you need to have this discussion with your mother first, Harry,” Severus said.

“You never mention my dad. Shouldn’t I speak with both of them?”

Severus said nothing as they stared at each other, but finally gave the barest shake of his head.

“Well, that’s it, then.” Harry picked up his mug and walked past Severus into the sitting room. He stood in front of the fireplace, facing Severus. “Tell me that my dad was in on this whole thing.”

Severus’ face remained set. Harry had learned how good he was at not showing his hand. He’d be superb at Muggle poker.

“I only ever dealt with your mother,” Severus said at last. He moved into the kitchen to get his mug, but kept his eyes on Harry.

“You had to analyze his sperm,” Harry said. He covered his face with his hand and laughed. “I can’t even believe I’m discussing my father’s sperm with you.”

“Don’t think this is altogether pleasant for me, either,” Severus said. He sipped his tea and made a face.

“The tea is fine,” Harry said, the corner of his mouth lifting into the beginnings of a smile. “Stop thinking about sperm.”

“I would if you’d let me,” Severus answered, giving a tentative smile in return.

“I’ll talk to my mum, then,” Harry said after they stared at each other for a few more seconds. “She’s coming home on Wednesday, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Severus answered. “That soon?”

“This is going to be so weird.” Harry shook his head as he looked around the room. “Pregnant. She’s actually having another baby. So – what about those side-effects, then? Do they just take twenty years to wear off or something?”

“I’ve no idea. It would appear so – as none of the other users have ever had a second child. But there is also the matter of this draught during the fertility rite.”

Harry shook his head. He put his tea down on a table and walked toward Severus.

“Why don’t we stop talking about sperm and fertility and my parents and go back to your place?” he suggested. He brushed his lips against Severus’ neck, standing intimately close but not quite touching him with anything but his mouth. “I’d rather not chance Ron walking in on us tonight.”

“Tonight?” Severus turned his head and pressed a kiss on Harry’s mouth. Harry accepted the kiss, returned it, then nuzzled Severus’ neck, breathing in his scent and sighing.

“Don’t I get to shag you tonight?” Harry asked in a low voice. “Or do you want to have me first? I’m up for either, I think.”

Severus touched the side of Harry’s face and worked his fingers around his neck, pulling him in against him. “Or both,” he murmured.

“Both?” Harry met Severus’ lips again. “Both is good.”


	20. A Very Good Way to Die

Both _was_ good, though it took a long time to get there.

When they stepped out of the Floo in Spinner’s End, Severus tugged Harry’s hand and led him to a staircase hidden behind a shelf of books that slid out of the way at Severus’ touch. He pulled him up dark, narrow stairs to a dark, narrow corridor, then into a bathroom, which had a smallish but sparkling clean shower stall. Harry was pushed against the wall and kissed soundly as hands on his trousers unbuckled his belt and undid the button and zip. He was kicking off his shoes, stepping out of his trousers and pants even as the kiss continued, and before he had time or presence of mind to think much about it at all, they were in the shower together, his back against Severus’ chest, and he was so hard it hurt. Severus’ hands were on his chest, spreading lather, sliding over his nipples, and he managed to stay upright only by pressing his hands against the tiles. He keened as Severus’ hands spread lather over his erection, worked it into his pubic hair, then cupped his bollocks and slid back to his arse.

Severus spent a good deal of time washing his arse, his crease, fingers ghosting over his entrance time and again.

Harry was already quivering with need, warmed by the pulsing water and the stimulation, when Severus dropped to his knees behind him and worked fingers into his crease, spreading him, exposing him.

“Fuck,” he managed as Severus’ tongue laved him, gasping out the single syllable as a bolt of pleasure shot through him. He instinctively widened his stance, pressing back as his breathing sped up. Severus spent only a few moments working his crease, sliding over him before the tongue began to push into him, slowly but purposefully.

“Fuck – Severus. I – I … yeah. That’s … that’s good. Ahhhh…”

He bit his bottom lip, trying to keep from making embarrassing noises, from keening in pleasure as Severus’ tongue worked in further.

He’d never – in his wildest fantasies – never imagined this. Fingers – yeah. Toys even. But the intimacy of this, of Severus’ mouth, his tongue, the feeling of the hot water spraying his body as the strong tongue worked itself in, as Severus’ hands gripped him, breath from his nose ghosting over his sensitive flesh – nothing had ever aroused him more.

Behind him, below him, somewhere in the small space of the warm, wet, wonderful shower, Severus groaned.

Harry straightened his arms and pushed back, groaning himself as Severus’ tongue pressed even further into him. It speared into him, slid out, then pressed in again. His head dropped to his chest as a tight knot began to uncurl deep within him, somewhere between his cock and Severus’ clever tongue.

“Just do it. Do it here. Fuck me, Severus,” Harry panted. “I need it now. I can’t wait.”

Severus’ face pulled away from him and one hand scrabbled along the bathtub rim while the other closed around Harry’s throbbing erection.

“Yes,” breathed Harry. “Merlin – yes.” He nearly keened as Severus’ hand around his cock tightened, then jerked in surprise as a finger, now coated with slick lubricant from the tube Severus had opened, slid inside him where the tongue had been.

“Shhh. I’ve got you. Relax. Just relax,” whispered Severus, his voice hardly audible over the pulsing spray of the water. The tongue that had been working him moments before licked up his hip. An open-mouthed kiss was pressed against his hipbone and the finger worked deeper inside him, sliding in far more easily than he’d have imagined, then easing back out. It soon found its way back in, moving around inside him as if looking for space, circling and crooking. It was a strange feeling, odd and invasive, yet he craved the finger immediately when it slid out, sought it by pushing against Severus’ hand, sighing and panting, adjusting to the fullness only to have a second finger join the first.

“Fuck,” he panted. He pushed back, groaning as the two fingers opened him further, pushing into him even as he sank back on them.

“Good,” breathed Severus, stretching out the word into a susurration. Another kiss, on his other hip, a tongue licking beads of water off one of his cheeks. The fingers inside him pressed in again, slid out slowly, twisting and separating until Harry was moaning, nearly keening with need. The pace was slow, even rhythmic, all of Severus’ attention given to the intrusion, the stretching, the preparation of the body on offer before him.

“You can take another,” Severus said then, his voice a seduction as Harry gritted his teeth and pressed against the hand on his arse. But even as he spoke, with just the two fingers inside him, the second finger reached and pressed down, hitting something within him.

Stars exploded behind Harry’s eyes as electric bolts seemed to shoot out into his extremities. He quivered, head hitting the shower wall below the showerhead as he mewled and groaned. _This!_ Why the _fuck_ had they waited so long to do this?

“The _fuck_ was that? Do that – do that _again_!” Harry demanded.

Severus obliged, hitting the sweet spot one more time with another thrust of his fingers, then easing them out and biting at Harry’s arse cheek, licking at his crease as he worked more lubricant from the tube and over his fingers. The cap and the tube slid down toward the drain and Harry stared at it with an odd sort of fascination as Severus’ fingers pushed at him yet again.

“Too much…” he breathed as the pressure from the three fingers increased. “Too big.”

Severus chuckled. The sound echoed around him. “Not too big,” he said. “Not too much. You can take it, Harry. We’ll go slowly.”

“Guh … fuck … Sev … Severus … shit …”

It felt like beads of perspiration were forming on his head, between his eyes, dripping to the shower floor along with the clean water, still pulsing warm and hard against his skin. The pressure was intense, the intrusion too much, as Severus’ fingers pushed slowly inside him, slick with lube, turning as they slid inward. A hand closed around his prick and pulled just as the fingers pressed against that magic spot within him again.

He would have come if fingers hadn’t suddenly clasped around the bottom of his cock, staving off the orgasm he wanted so very badly.

“Please – Severus – please,” he panted.

“Not yet,” teased the low voice as the fingers slipped from his body. He groaned, missing the stretch and burn, pressing back to find them again as he watched those same fingers snatch away the tube of lubricant, squeeze it, then drop it again. He felt Severus stand behind him, felt the blunt head of Severus’ cock press against him as fingers slid down and over his chest, pulling at one of his nipples until he wanted to die from the anticipation, the pulling want centered in his groin.

“Ready?” asked Severus, but he was already pressing in, his cock taking the place of the fingers inside Harry, filling him much more thoroughly. The hand on Harry’s chest grazed the nipple again, then slid back to scrape it with a fingernail, then flick it, squeeze it. And while he was distracted with the pain-pleasure emanating from his nipple, the cock slid in further.

Harry grunted. “Too much. Too…fuck…fuck me. Severus – fuck me, fuck me.”

He was panting, grinding back against Severus as the impossible pressure slipped across the line to unknown, unspoken pleasure. The cock inside him slid home, then quickly pulled nearly all the way out before sliding in again until Severus was fully seated, biting at his shoulder, whispering filthy words and tender endearments in his ear.

Severus picked up the pace, pressing in and pulling out with his hands beside Harry’s on the tile wall, fingers entwining as he gave in and jerked his hips forward, pounding in as Harry dropped one hand to wrap around his own cock, coming with a cry as Severus snapped forward, pressing in and biting down on Harry’s neck. He spurted against the shower wall and would have fallen to his knees had Severus not wrapped an arm around him, finding purchase as he finished himself off in two more thrusts.

Then they did slide to the floor together, sated and boneless.

“You’re going to kill me,” Severus whispered into his ear as they water continued to rain down on them.

Harry thought it would be a very good way to die.

***

It came full circle the next morning, when Harry woke up wrapped around Severus’ back, morning wood poking against Severus.

Merlin, he loved the smell of Severus.

Earthy and rich and male. Sweaty sheets, even though they’d done nothing more than dry off and crawl into bed from the shower. Harry had winced as Severus applied a healing cream to his bum, and Severus had complained that his knees hurt from the shower floor, and Harry had laughed and traced the ridges of the small square tiles imprinted in the skin of Severus’ knees.

He ducked into the bathroom, still naked and barefoot, to use the loo, and picked up the lube from the bottom of the tub before he went back to Severus’ bedroom.

His turn – to top, to shag Severus – was nothing like the night before, nothing like first-time sex in the shower. It was less hot, less wet, less vigorous, and somehow more intimate.

Severus lay on his back on his bed, knees up and splayed, and eased Harry through the preparations until Harry had Severus half in his lap, pressing into him with a vague sort of wonder.

“I like seeing you,” Harry said as they rocked against each other. He bit his bottom lip as he pressed forward, then brushed his fingers over Severus’ lips, watching as Severus lazily fisted himself, pulling at his cock as Harry pressed into him, comfortable in this role as well, letting Harry take the lead. “Merlin, you’re so…so tight.”

He wondered why they hadn’t had this in sex education at Hogwarts – why their classes with Madam Pomfrey had been limited to safety precautions, contraception, and sexually transmitted diseases, and no time at all devoted to the feeling of being stretched, of a cock inside the tight warmth of your partner, of what it felt like to ride the edge of arousal, the mounting waves of sensation, until you were teetering on the edge, one step away from bliss, a single heartbeat from peaceful oblivion.

Severus came first, his slow strokes on his cock helped along by Harry’s hand over his own, by Harry whispering, smiling, urging him over the edge.

And Harry, when he came, collapsed atop Severus, skin against skin, sweaty, sleepy, content.

They lay in bed together until noon, then went down together for tea. And it was comfortable, and companionable, and no one mentioned James, or Lily, or fertility potions, or pregnancy.

And Harry leaned to make a good omelet that afternoon. But it was by far not his favorite lesson that weekend.


	21. Batshit Crazy

“You can’t have changed this much in two and a half months,” Lily said, hugging Harry again. “You’re all grown up. You’ve got new glasses. You’re at least two inches taller.”

Harry grinned and pulled away from his mum’s grasp. “I do have new glasses, but I’m no taller than I was when you left. As for being all grown up – well, maybe. It’s been a good summer.”

Lily Potter stepped back and studied her son critically for a long moment, then shook her head. “Well, you look good. Auror training must agree with you.”

“Oh, Auror training does agree with him,” said Tonks, who had just wrested Teddy from under the sofa. “He was especially agreeable during the Potions section.”

“Thanks, Tonks. You can go now,” said Harry, taking Teddy from her. “I’ll be here all evening, so just send Remus for Teddy when he’s done at Hogwarts.”

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Tonks said, apologizing again. “I just couldn’t find anyone on such short notice. I’ll make it up to you – I promise.”

“It’s fine, Tonks.” Lily led her over to the Floo. “Go – we’ll be fine. We’ll keep Teddy entertained.”

“He’ll keep us entertained,” murmured Harry. He’d put Teddy down but grabbed him quickly as the little boy started climbing onto the coffee table.

Tonks disappeared with a sharp crack and Harry sank back on to the sofa, holding the wriggling Teddy on his lap.

“Sure you’re ready for this?” he asked as the little boy squirmed, then twisted around and pulled off his glasses.

“Actually – yes,” she said, laughing as Harry tried to get his glasses back from Teddy. “Life’s not been the same since you went off to Hogwarts and stopped destroying things around here.”

Harry tipped the nappy bag Tonks had left onto the floor at his feet, spilling some brightly coloured toys. Teddy shrieked and Harry set him on the floor where Teddy promptly kicked the toys under the sofa and dove in after them.

“When will Dad be back?” Harry asked. His parents had arrived back in England late the night before, but Harry had been at work all day and had made it to their house just after six. Tonks had been called in for night patrol, so he’d made special arrangements for her to bring Teddy directly to his mum’s.

“He slept in this morning, since we got home so late last night – so he didn’t even leave for Winborne until after noon. He’ll be in by seven,” she said.

“Good.” Harry tugged Teddy out from under the sofa again and brushed dust off of his hair. “I need to ask you about something – something that came up last weekend.”

Lily looked up at Harry, a cautious expression on her face. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s about the N.E.W.T. project Severus did for Potions.”

His mum had settled into the loveseat that faced the sofa. She stared at him a long moment, not speaking, then shook her head.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that that would come up – especially after I told you our news.”

“Actually – Severus wasn’t the one to bring it up,” Harry said. “It came up when we had dinner with Ron and Hermione last weekend,” Harry explained. “Hermione had done a bit of homework on Severus.”

“A girl after my own heart,” said Lily. “You should have snagged her before Ron did.”

“Mum.”

“I know – I know. Really – she’s not your type. You’d need someone less bookish – more athletic. Like Ginny Weasley.”

“Mum!” He knew she was teasing, and she grinned and tossed a pillow at him. He caught it and Teddy squealed with delight at the game.

“Hermione’s been interested in Severus since Ron told her about him.”

“Of course she has – he’s your first serious boyfriend.”

“He’s a Potions master. You know Hermione – she was sure I’d end up with a Quidditch player. She was practically giddy I fell for someone like him. By the time we got together for dinner, she’d already looked him up, and had read his bio in one of those Potions journals. She knew what his N.E.W.T. project was about and asked him all sorts of questions about why he hadn’t published his findings and why he didn’t market his potion publicly. One thing led to another and… well… things just kind of fell together. In my head, I mean. And I started thinking about you – and Dad – and I guessed.”

He looked at her significantly.

“You guessed?” She looked like she didn’t quite believe him. “He didn’t just tell you, did he? I asked him not to. And he promised – though it was years ago, and circumstances have certainly changed.”

“Mum.” His voice was firm as she danced around the topic. “Does Dad know?”

Lily narrowed her gaze. “You’re a quick one, aren’t you? I should have realized you’d take after me and not your dad.”

“Ha, ha,” he said. “Mum?”

She looked at him with green eyes so like his own. She shook her head, just once.

“No. Not exactly. He knows I was trying some things that might increase our chances to conceive quickly. But I never told him those things included Severus’ potion.”

“So he knew he had….” He faltered, trying to form the phrase. “He knew he had a problem, then? That he might not be able to father a child without… help?”

Lily gave him a half smile. “I never once imagined I’d be having this conversation with you,” she said dryly.

“And I never once imagined I’d be dating the man who’s more or less responsible for my existence,” Harry parlayed back at her. “And some day you can tell my new brother or sister about that Amazonian fertility rite, too.”

“Well, he took long enough to collect his payment,” Lily said. “When I told him I’d repay him someday for his help, he said he’d take my firstborn child.”

“Tell me you’re not serious,” Harry said. He fished Teddy out of the magazine rack and plopped him on the sofa beside him.

“Oh, he said it,” she said. “Though I’m sure he was joking. It’s just not so funny from this side.”

Teddy had climbed into Harry’s lap and was sitting there, leaning back against his chest, regarding Lily with an interested expression.

“Mum – you’re going to have to let it go. I like him. I’m going to keep seeing him. I’m sorry if it sits wrong with you – but it’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. The only reason we’re together at all is because I asked him out – not because he went after me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were nervous about Dad finding out about the fertility potion.”

“I’m not exactly nervous about that,” Lily answered. “Your dad knows I wanted to get pregnant right away. He willingly took the potion when I gave it to him. And Harry – for the record – the reason you even met Severus is because he was arrested for illegally harvesting ingredients from the Forbidden Forest. He was breaking the law.”

Harry stared at her for a long moment. “You do know what he does with those mushrooms, don’t you?”

She sighed. “I know.” She looked at him and shook her head. “You’re a natural at that, you know – taking care of Teddy.”

Harry smiled. “I might have one of my own some day, Mum. Who knows? I don’t have to go about it the same way you did, you know. I could use a surrogate, or adopt. But for now I’ll enjoy him, and my new brother or sister when the time comes.”

Lily laughed. “I’m still getting used to the idea. You will volunteer for babysitting duty, won’t you?”

“I’ll volunteer plenty,” he said. He jiggled Teddy a bit and kissed his head. “Just like with this little chap.”

“I just wish your grandpa was still around,” she said, a touch of sadness in her voice.

“I do too,” Harry said. “He was the best. I still remember him, even though I was only five when he died.”

“He thought the world of you – well, of both you and Dudley, really,” she said.

“Have you told Aunt Petunia yet?” Harry asked. “Next thing you know she and Uncle Vernon will be having another baby.”

Lily laughed. “Harry – please. You do exaggerate, you know. She’s not _that_ competitive.”

“Oh, yes she is.” He rolled his eyes. “So you haven’t told her?”

“We’ve only told you,” she said. “And you’ve only told Severus – right?”

“Right. And he’s really interested in whatever it is Dad drank over in Brazil – and whether his potion didn’t really have the effect you all thought it did.”

“Of course he is,” she said with a laugh. “I’m sure he’ll have a few questions for us. Honestly – I don’t know what to think. It might be something in that draught – but it might be that the original potion wasn’t as destructive to the – well, you know.”

“We’ve had some odd conversations in our life,” Harry said. “But this trumps them all.”

“Even the one after I found that magazine….?” Lily teased.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes,” he answered, grinning. “But actually, I have another question.” He leaned forward and sat Teddy back on the floor. “Why did you want to have me so soon after you got married? Why didn’t you want to wait to see if nature would take its course without help from Severus?”

Lily watched Teddy cruise around the coffee table. She reached out her arms and he toddled over to her and she lifted him into her lap, smoothing down his messy hair. She sighed, then looked up at Harry. “I was young, Harry. Only eighteen when I married your dad. We meant to wait – we really did. We’d talked about getting established in our careers first, getting a cottage of our own. But several things happened. Sev started his N.E.W.T. project, for one. I was in N.E.W.T. Potions, too, and we each had to present a synopsis of our project to the rest of the class. Harry – you should have seen the look on some of the other students’ faces when Severus spoke about his project. People just didn’t _talk_ about this sort of thing in the Wizarding world. But it got me thinking – about my friends, and their families, and about your dad and how old your Grandma and Grandpa Potter were when your dad was born. And I thought better safe than sorry. But even before I… well…” She lowered her voice, but continued on resolutely. “Before I had Severus test a sample – a sample from your father – we got the bad news about my dad’s diagnosis. And only a couple months after that, Petunia announced that she was pregnant.”

Harry smiled. “And I thought she was the competitive one,” he joked.

“I’m not sure you can understand – not really,” she said. “I wanted my father to know my child too, in the time he had left. I couldn’t even imagine Petunia’s child knowing him – of him loving her child – and never knowing mine. And in the same way, I couldn’t imagine having a child who never knew him. I know this sounds foolish, and childish, but all of those things motivated me.” She paused a moment, and her smile was a bit wistful. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way, Harry. You had almost six years with your grandpa, and you meant the world to him. I sincerely believe those last years of his life were better for having you in it. And I’m glad we did it – I really have no regrets. Even if the potion wasn’t perfected – even though it wouldn’t work to give us a second child.”

Harry stood and walked over to his mum, crouching down in front of her and taking one of her hands. “Pop was the best, Mum. Really. You know how much I loved him. And what you did back then – Mum, it’s your life, not mine.” He laughed, realizing the unintentional double meaning. “Alright – mine too, right? But what I mean is that it was your decision, and I’m here now, and I’m grateful for that. I truly am. And it might be ironic that it all came around to me being with Severus now – but he was your best friend once, wasn’t he? Maybe I see the same good things in him that you did.”

“Or the other way around,” she said softly.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think he sees you when he looks at me, Mum. That was a long time ago.”

“You seem quite sure about this,” she said. She squeezed his hand, then let go of it. “For a young man who’s only been out of Hogwarts a year, and who was more interested in Quidditch and pints with your friends when we left for South America a few months ago.”

“Late bloomer,” he said. “Come on, Mum. He challenges me. And he’s smart and intense and sexy, too.”

“I didn’t need to hear that.”

James Potter, his Quidditch trainer’s robes unbuttoned and his trousers torn at the knee, had stepped out of the Floo behind Harry. Teddy squealed in Lily’s arms and Harry stumbled backward and crashed into the coffee table.

“Hello, graceful,” James said, offering Harry a hand and helping him to his feet.

“Hey, Dad.” Harry grinned as he hugged his father. “Welcome home.”

James stepped back, hands on his son’s shoulders. “You don’t look deranged, brainwashed or – what was the other phrase Sirius used?” He considered a moment. “Right. Batshit crazy.”

“You’ve already seen Sirius?”

James rolled his eyes as he made his way into the kitchen. “He was at the door at seven thirty this morning. I put up with him for five minutes then shoved him outside and went back to bed.”

“He doesn’t waste any time, does he?” Harry said.

“He was back here over lunch, just after you left,” Lily volunteered “He thinks he can get you assigned to a foreign detail by Christmas, Harry.”

“Talk about batshit crazy,” muttered Harry.

“When am I going to meet your young man?” James asked.

From her perch on the loveseat, Lily burst out laughing.

“You’ve been saving that one up, haven’t you?” she said.

“He’s coming to the Burrow for my party,” Harry answered. “And if Sirius causes any trouble, I’m giving Severus permission to hex his balls off.”

He hoped it didn’t come to that, but he’d be prepared all the same. He was surprised at how easy this first meeting with his parents had been, and knew he had the new baby to thank for it. Despite his mum’s questions, his dad’s initial reaction to overhearing him say that Severus was sexy, they’d mellowed. It felt good to have their focus off of him, shifted to the new reality of an expanding family.

He couldn’t believe how well things were going, all in all.

And he wondered – of course – when the castle in the air would come tumbling down.

As it turned out, sooner than anyone would have thought.


	22. The Biggest Fool

“Harry – wake up.”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, speaking into his ear.

“What?”

Harry fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table, his brain as out of focus as his vision. He’d had night patrol with Tonks and had stumbled into bed after three a.m. It felt as if no time at all had passed, as if he’d just rested his head on his pillow and closed his eyes.

“Severus?”

“Come – we don’t have much time.”

“Much time for what? What’s going on?”

Harry was out of bed, already pulling on his jeans. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and shoved it in his pocket.

Severus tossed a shirt at Harry. “Get dressed. We’re going to Aberdeen to steal an egg.”

“Aberdeen?”

“In the North Sea.”

“Right. Wait – an egg?”

“There was an explosion at the Ministry of Magic–a subsequent blast with a blinding flash occurred after the Aurors arrived on scene. It has seriously injured a number of Aurors – and several have been left sightless. The Ministry needs a potion to save their eyesight.”

“What kind of potion? Wait – this isn’t – this isn’t the potion you told me about that day? The one from the egg of the protected bird?” Harry froze in place, staring at Severus. “Does the Ministry know what’s in the potion? That it’s illegal?”

“No.” Severus spoke mechanically, almost as if her were deliberately keeping his voice emotionless. “St. Mungo’s simply stated that they know of no other remedy other than this potion – that it is their only hope. The MLE then contacted me to see if I could provide the potion.” He seemed to hesitate, and gave Harry a calculating look. “I have priced it at ten thousand Galleons and they have accepted.”

“Ten thousand!” Harry’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s – that’s a fortune, Severus!”

“I came directly here in the hopes that you would agree to come and assist me. The potion is most successful if administered within forty-eight hours of injury and it takes nearly a day to brew.”

“But – but it’s not legal. The egg. You said the eggs were protected.”

They were in the sitting room now, and Severus was heading directly toward the fireplace, Harry at his heels.

“A baby bird for three British Aurors’ eyesight. Choose, Harry. We have little time.”

“Just one egg?” Harry asked. “For all of them?”

“Does it matter?” asked Severus, whirling back to face him. “One egg or three?”

Harry frowned, but didn’t answer. His brain was still not functioning in top form. “Why didn’t you tell them? That the potion had an illegal ingredient?” Harry pulled at Severus’ arm. “They should know what they’re buying – what they’re asking of you.”

His eyes took on an odd look – as if he wasn’t quite convinced of his own reasons for accepting the task. “If I tell them, I stand the chance of losing ten thousand Galleons,” he said.

Harry could finally see Severus in the dim morning light coming in from the front windows. Like Harry, Severus seemed hastily dressed. He was also antsy, clearly uncomfortable with the situation and unhappy with Harry’s response.

“You can’t just do this,” Harry warned him. “You need to tell them the potion requires a banned ingredient. Can’t you make it without the eggshell? Or with a substitute?”

“Of course I _could_ ,” Severus said. “If I wanted to create a useless potion that would have absolutely no chance of repairing damaged retinas and corneas, much less optic nerves.” He reached onto the mantel and took a handful of Floo powder from the jar, and turned to face Harry. “Are you coming or aren’t you?”

They stared at each other for the space of a half-dozen heartbeats.

“Who’s hurt?” Harry asked. “Which Aurors?”

“Does it matter?” answered Severus. His eyes bore into Harry’s.

Harry hesitated just long enough for Severus to notice.

“No. It doesn’t matter. And you know I can’t go,” Harry said. “And I can’t help with the potion. Severus – I shouldn’t even know about it.”

Severus stared at him, his expression suddenly closed and unreadable.

“Will you inform your superiors?”

“I don’t think they’d have asked for this if they knew….”

Severus shook his head. “You are naïve, Harry, and time is short. If you wish to see me when I return, contact me. We need to talk.”

“Talk? What do you mean – Severus!”

But Severus was gone. The Floo flared up and he whirled out of sight even as Harry took two quick steps forward.

Harry stared into the fireplace, trying to process all that had just happened. He scowled, then spun around, angry, and kicked a sofa cushion that was lying on the floor. It sailed through the air and clipped a couple of pint glasses he and Ron had left on the coffee table. They fell to the floor and shattered.

“Damn it!” he shouted, irritated and upset. He kicked at the corner of the coffee table and it toppled over with a crash.

Ron came stumbling out of his room then, barefoot and bare-chested. Before Harry could warn him, he’d stepped on the broken glass and cried out, first hopping on one foot and then collapsing onto the sofa.

“What the hell is going on?” he cried. “What’s _wrong_ with you?”

Harry dropped onto the couch beside him. “Merlin – Ron – I’m sorry. Hold still. Let me get the glass out.”

Ron pulled his foot away, scowling at him. “Clean up the glass then tell me what’s going on.”

Harry righted the table then spelled the mess into the kitchen bin as Ron looked critically at his bleeding foot. “Severus was just here,” he explained. “He wanted me to go out with him to find an egg.”

“An egg?” Ron stopped prodding at the pad of his foot and looked at Harry, clearly thinking his friend was insane.

“Yeah – a special egg. From a bird that nests on the coast in Scotland. The shell is used in this special potion. But I didn’t – I couldn’t….”

“He came to get you in the middle of the night to go look for an egg? Mate – that’s not right. Are you sure…?

He stopped talking as the flames in the fireplace flared up again and Tonks, looking tired and disheveled, stepped out of the Floo into the sitting room.

“Tonks! What’s wrong?” Harry jumped to his feet as Tonks stared at him, clearly surprised to find Harry awake and dressed.

“Harry – you’re up. I mean I’m glad – I’m glad you’re up.” She stepped forward, looking grave. “Harry – there’s been some trouble at the Ministry. I’m on my way to St. Mungo’s. I thought you might want to come along.”

“Why?” Harry looked confused. “Are they calling us in?” He looked down at his thrown-together clothing. “Do I need to get my uniform?”

Tonks shook her head and put out her hand. “No - no. No uniform. I just thought…”

“Severus was just here,” Ron interrupted as Tonks and Harry stared at each other.. “He wanted Harry to go with him to get some egg for a potion.” He looked from Tonks to Harry and back to Tonks again.

“They called him to make a potion for the Aurors who were hurt in the explosion,” Harry explained.

Tonks’ expression told him that she already knew that. She stared at Harry, eyes narrowing.

“Harry – why didn’t you go with Severus? If he needed your help?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, turning to stare at Harry too. “Why not, mate?”

Harry turned his head slowly to look at Ron. “The egg is from a protected bird.” He dropped into a chair and groaned. “I asked him who the potion was for and he asked if it mattered.” He shook his head, beginning to realize how ridiculous he sounded. “I told him it didn’t matter. I told him illegal was still illegal.”

The way Tonks was looking at him, with an odd mixture of pity and understanding, made him look at the floor and bite his lip. 

“But - but he needs the egg for the potion - to help these Aurors.”

It seemed so simple the way Ron put it.

“Harry - you’re going to have to grapple with much bigger issues than this if you stay with the MLE. You’re going to have to decide if one life is worth more than another. If losing one life to save two more is acceptable. You won’t have time for ethical questions about protected birds when lives are on the line.”

Tonks and Ron were both staring at him now, and he suddenly thought himself the biggest fool. Severus needed him. He trusted Harry to help. He’d come to Harry in the dead of the night. He’d gone off on his own when time was of the essence. Lives were at stake here. Careers. He felt helpless, like his skin was too tight, like his insides didn’t quite fit inside of it. His skin was itching – crawling. He needed to _do_ something. To find Severus. To help him get that egg.

“Harry – I need to get to St. Mungo’s. We have eight Aurors down – and three of them were in the flash and are blind. You can come with me, or you can go find Severus, or you can go back to bed. But we don’t have time to sit here and talk about it anymore.”

She turned back to the fireplace and took a handful of Floo powder from the box on the mantel, then turned to face Harry. 

That look again. The look that told him he’d be making many more difficult decisions than this one in the future. The one that said he was so young, so inexperienced.

And suddenly, it was clear. There were eight Aurors down. Eight. Aurors he certainly knew. And three were counting on Severus’ potion – to continue their careers. To see their families again.

And Severus was counting on _him_.

“Wait – Tonks. How do I find Severus?” he asked as Tonks turned back toward the fireplace. “This bird – I think he told me it nested on the Scottish coast on the North Sea.” 

“Portkey,” Tonks said. “Go to headquarters and ask for Breedlove. She’ll be down there if she’s not at St. Mungo’s.” 

“Thank you,” he said, licking his dry lips. Impulsively, he moved forward and hugged her. She hugged him back, clearly surprised. “I’m sorry I’m such an idiot,” he said.

“You’re not an idiot,” she said. “You’re young. Idealistic. It’s about time we started working on knocking your feet out from under you.”

He released her. “About time? You don’t remember that little incident with the Pygmy Puff?”

She laughed and squeezed him again, then turned quickly and disappeared into the flames.

Harry reached into the Floo powder box and turned to Ron. “I’ll be a while.” He looked at Ron’s foot. “And I’m sorry about that – I’ve been a real berk tonight.”

“Well, get out of here and start putting things to rights,” Ron said.

Harry nodded, then tossed the Floo powder into the flames, thinking only of putting things right with Severus.


	23. Quoth the Raven

Breedlove, when Harry explained that he needed to find Snape to help him with the potion, didn’t ask many questions. She looked like she’d been up most of the night, as indeed she had, and she handed Harry a broken quill without comment.

“Good thing you’re here – it activates in less than a minute.” She looked at Harry critically. “You do know where you’re going, don’t you? You’re not exactly dressed….”

Less than a minute was right. Before Harry could answer that he hadn’t had time to prepare for weather on the northeast coast of Scotland, he felt the unpleasant tug behind his navel.

The Portkey dropped him on a bare and rocky patch of land, just at the edge of dawn. The sea stretched out before him and he braced himself against the cold, cutting wind. He heard the crash of waves on the rocks around him, felt the salty spray in his face. He was on a narrow and very rocky beach, running along great cliffs of rock that stretched out above and behind him.

It was a forbidding location, cold and desolate, but the sun was beginning to touch the inlet and, as it did, the rocky walls started to come alive as birds began to leave their nests and roosts in search of food.

He took a moment to get his bearings, using his wand and a Compass Charm to find that he was facing north. He had no idea if he was on the mainland or an island, nor if the area was inhabited by anything other than seabirds. Worse yet, he didn’t know what the bird looked like or where it nested. He needed to find Severus – and quickly.

_Alright, Harry. Breathe._

He pointed his wand out over the water, pulled forward his happiest memory, and conjured his Patronus. He blinked, startled to realize as he concentrated that that winning the Quidditch Cup his seventh year was not what first came to mind now.

The Patronus Charm was one of his best advanced spells, and he’d been able to produce a corporeal Patronus since sixth year. His mum had said she’d known his Patronus would be a bird of some sort, as he was --happier in the air than on the ground. She exclaimed over it when he produced it for her, and had shown him her own Patronus – a doe to match his father’s stag.

The glimmering, ghost-like form of a peregrine falcon sailed out from the end of his wand, circling his head twice before returning to perch on his outstretched arm, stretching its wings and cocking its head to the side, oblivious to the cold wind and the crash of the waves.

“I’m here, Severus. I changed my mind. Breedlove made me another Port-key. Come for me – please.”

He raised his arm and the falcon took wing, flying west along the beach without hesitation, and Harry watched it until it disappeared. He stood still, trying to ignore the wind, and waited anxiously for five minutes, pushing away thoughts of the cold, of Severus rejecting his help and sending him back home.

A glow a hundred feet ahead, in the direction his Patronus had disappeared, was the first sign of a response from Severus. It approached quickly and he made out, at last, the bright-white shape of a bird, flying lower than his falcon had. A raven, obvious in form if not colour. He watched as the Patronus approached, finding the bird comfortingly familiar, though he’d never seen it before. It lit on a rock only a few feet away, staring deliberately at him. It stretched out its wings, then swept its head to the side, beckoning, before taking wing again and heading back to the west.

Harry followed without hesitation, scrabbling over the slippery rocks, increasing his pace as the raven reversed course and circled back around him time and again to keep him within sight, nearly tripping over his feet when the Patronus suddenly disappeared and Severus’ form grew out of the mist. His robes were whipping behind him and in his hand he clutched a broom. A Ministry-issued Firebrand 15, complete with telltale platinum stirrups.

“Just in time,” said Severus, though his voice was nearly lost on the wind. He gestured toward the towering walls behind them. “I’ve located the nesting site and now we need only find the nest and secure the egg.”

There was no other greeting. No exclamations, no censures, no hint of surprise that Harry was suddenly here on the Scottish coast instead of in his warm bed back in London.

Harry gazed up at the cliffs teeming with small birds soaring and diving. In the dim light of the new morning, Harry squinted, assessing the impossible task, then turned back to Severus.

“Why the broom? Can’t you summon it?” he asked as the wind gusted up around them on the roar of the ocean.

“No,” Severus answered, attempting to draw his robes close as they flapped around him. “You cannot summon the egg. Not from this distance. The live membranes are required – the egg cannot be broken or even cracked. And there will be more than one egg in the nest – we must pick one out without damaging or disturbing the others, lest the parents abandon the nest completely.”

They stood there together for a moment, watching the high grey walls as birds swooped and dove, lifting off nests and winging out to sea. In the grey sameness of sea and sky, they were difficult to follow as they moved against the wind out to sea.

Harry watched for another long moment, turning over Severus’ words. “But there are dozens of nests, Severus. Hundreds.”

“The magical storm petrel breeds amongst its ordinary cousins,” Severus answered. “They are difficult to distinguish. The magical bird is an inch or two longer, with more white plumage on the wings than the common bird, and tail feathers that are almost iridescent. It lays two or three eggs while the common bird lays only one. Their nest resembles the nests of the non-magical bird, but is larger by half and more likely to be in a prime position – higher, better protected.” He stood behind Harry and leaned forward so Harry could hear him. “There are hundreds of nests at this nesting site, but only one of them will hold the egg we need.”

Harry scanned the face of the rock wall, a feeling of hopelessness beginning to throttle him.

“I would have found it by trial and error,” Severus continued, “searching the most prominent nests in the most likely places. But you are here now, Harry. You can fly much better than I, and with your unique position, may find it easier to recognize the protective wards.”

“The wards? The nest is warded?” Harry spun around and faced Severus. He hadn’t expected that – hadn’t even considered it, in fact.

“We are in Scotland, still in the realm of the British Ministry of Magic. We are looking for a protected bird which nests amid common birds of its species. Each magical storm petrel returns to the same breeding ground year after year and claims the best nesting site. The site will be warded to protect the bird and its nest, with the wards erected by British Aurors.

Harry watched the craggy wall as birds continued to come and go on while the light grew.

“What makes these birds magical?” he asked at last. “What do they do?”

“Legend holds that the storm petrel is the soul of a drowned sailor, that they foretell bad weather, or that they are the spirits of sea captains who mistreated their crew and are doomed to fly over the seas for eternity. The magical storm petrel does foretell storms, and leads flocks of common storm petrels to guide vessels to safe waters. And there is some truth to the legend that the souls of the drowned take wing with these birds.”

Harry swallowed, steeling himself for the task ahead.

“Alright.” He scanned the walls again. He knew how to recognize wards, to feel them – it was part of his Auror training, and he’d sailed through the section. It had helped that Tonks and Bill Weasley had been their instructors, too. “I can find the warded nest – and I can dismantle the wards.” He put his hand on the broom and pulled it toward him, but Severus didn’t let it go.

“You’ve been to St. Mungo’s, then?” Severus asked, not letting go of the handle.

Harry put another hand on the broom, on top of Severus’. He shook his head, confused by the question. “No. But I was wrong – I admit it,” he said, tugging on the broom again. Severus held tight, placing his own second hand atop Harry’s. “But not how you think. It doesn’t matter who was hurt, or who we’re helping. What matters is that you’ve been asked to help, and you asked me to help you, and I stupidly refused because of a bird. So come on – let’s get this over with. Let me get out there and see what we’re dealing with.”

Severus let go of the broom with one hand and caught one of Harry’s wrists, holding him still as he studied him. When he spoke at last, his voice was more serious than Harry had ever heard it. “If you’re caught here, it could compromise your career as an Auror –- despite the fact that you’re helping fellow Aurors. It won’t be the Aurors who decide the case. If you can’t deal with that risk, you must leave now.”

Harry met Severus’ eyes. He shook his head as he suddenly understood something with a clear and comforting finality.

“Tonks told me that if I stay with the Aurors, someday I’d have to decide if sacrificing a life was worth saving two, Severus. It’s not black and white – nothing is – not like I thought it was. And I’m not sure this is the right career for me, anyway. But I’m here now and I know something about wards.” He tugged on the broom, but Severus still didn’t relinquish his hold. “Give me the broom, Severus. I know what I’m doing.”

The hand holding Harry’s wrist moved down to grasp his fingers. It squeezed his hand, the thumb brushed over his pulse point, then Severus let go of the broom.


	24. Catching the Snitch

In the end, it was Harry’s decision. 

The boy was, indeed, a natural on the broom. He made flying look organic, as at home on the broom as the birds were on wing, as Severus was bent over a steaming cauldron. But there was nothing romantic, Severus thought, about the vision of a Potions master hovering over a lab table, dicing slimy entrails or methodically stirring a noxious potion.

But watching Harry soar on that broom made Severus himself want to fly.

The nest site would be high, and well protected from the elements, so Harry swept around and up in a wide spiral, then began to cruise along the face of the sea wall, fifty or sixty feet above the rocky beach. The birds scattered before him with raucous caws, but he flew methodically, sweeping back and forth, an arm’s length or two from the wall, and Severus knew he was drawing on his Quidditch skills, his Seeker’s eye, as he scanned for the right nest, the right location, perhaps feeling for the flicker of the protective wards that were sure to be in place.

Severus _could_ have done this on his own. He’d been prepared to. It would have taken longer – much longer – and there’d have been a much greater risk of apprehension. He wasn’t capable of Apparating directly off a hovering broom, and if he’d set off the wards and been confronted, he’d have had to try to escape on the broom, or simply give up and turn himself in.

Harry Potter was certainly capable of out-maneuvering any pursuit on a broom. He’d probably master Apparation from a broom, as well, if he stayed with the Aurors.

No – Severus had not meant to force his hand. But as he watched Harry soar above him, he did not regret that the chance to do so had arisen so early. He had found Harry’s ideas of right and wrong amazingly fluid, yet morally sound, even though Harry didn’t recognize that himself. Harry had slid into a career as an Auror without having fully explored other possibilities. It was something to do, it was something he _could_ do, quite well, actually, something his parents’ very good friends did. But it wasn’t something, Severus thought, that would ultimately define him.

He had thought Harry too young to fully understand that the law often had very little to do with what was _truly_ right and wrong.

No, the young man who would so willingly Portkey out to this wild place to purposefully break the law, oblivious to the fact that the eyesight he was saving was his godfather’s, was not destined to remain an Auror forever.

The early morning sun peeked now and again from behind the clouds, illuminating the cold and windy cove with shards of diffused light. Severus watched as Harry passed the same spot two times, three, slowing to examine a recessed nook, then stopping, hovering, extending an arm.

Severus knew when he had the egg. Harry wasted no time, shooting down directly toward him, bent low and flat over the broomstick. He hopped off the broom in the practiced move of a Seeker, broom in one hand, egg – not Snitch – in the other.

He pressed the egg carefully, wordlessly, into Severus’ cupped hands. Their eyes met, and Severus took in Harry’s wind-tossed hair, his red cheeks and the determined look in his eyes.

“Take it – go,” Harry said. He placed his hands carefully around Severus’ and pressed his hands together until they cupped the small spotted egg protectively. “I’ll be there as soon as I replace the wards.”

“Replace the wards?” Severus asked, looking up at Harry in surprise. The egg was warm in his hands, perfect, unbroken. “Why?”

“There are two more eggs in the nest,” Harry explained hurriedly. “And – I need to do this. I’ll come as soon as I can. It may be – a while.”

He leaned forward, hands still clasped lightly over Severus’, and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you – for doing this,” he said, his mouth hovering over Severus’ skin. “I think – I think I understand now.”

He backed away from Severus and stood there clutching the broom for the time it took for Severus to grace him with one of his rare smiles. Then he climbed back onto his broom, gave Severus an answering, crooked smile and kicked off the ground, soaring toward the cliffs.

Severus secured the egg in the protective break-proof pouch he pulled from his pocket. He borrowed another long moment to watch Harry hovering near the cliff wall, tucked the pouch in his robe pocket, and left the Scottish coast behind, disappearing into the grey-white morning through a prism of colour on the wings of a Portkey.


	25. Fragments of Wounded Souls

By the time Harry staggered into Severus’ laboratory three and a half hours later, Severus had taken the potion to the first rest stage and was sitting on the sofa, staring into his cold cup of tea, clearly on edge. He’d been watching the mantel clock for half an hour. He had only thirty more minutes before he had to return to the potion for the next phase of preparation, and itching as he was to go find Harry, risked losing the entire potion – and the precious ingredient it contained – if he didn’t stay to carry it forward.

The flare of flames in the fireplace startled him, no matter how much he’d been waiting for it and hoping for it. He got quickly to his feet as Harry, who couldn’t step out of a Floo steady-footed to save his life, stumbled and fell against him.

“You’re late,” Severus said, hugging Harry to him harder than necessary, then stepping back, hands on Harry’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. He frowned. “And wet - and freezing cold.”

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?” Harry agreed. He grinned tiredly at Severus. “Those birds….” He shook his head. “The birds apparently approved of my wards. When I finished resetting them, they led me to another nest, and the birds in that one to yet another.” He laughed. “And so on. The Department of Magical Creatures had wards set on most of the nests, but quite a few were unprotected. I think I’ve flown a hundred miles, Severus. And I imagine I’ve saved so many eggs tonight that I can forgive myself the sacrifice of the one.”

“You need tea,” Severus commented as he headed to the kitchen to put the kettle back on.

Harry followed him into the narrow galley. “I went by the MLE to turn in my resignation,” he said quietly.

He paused – but if Severus was surprised by the announcement, he didn’t show it.

Harry had a speculative look on his face. “Didn’t quite do it yet,” he continued while Severus efficiently filled the kettle. “Hawkins was back at St. Mungo’s. Tonks was there, though. I told her what I planned to do.”

“How did she take it?” Severus asked as he pulled down a clean mug for Harry.

“You’re awfully calm about this, you know,” Harry said in reply. “And so was she, since you asked. It’s as if you both knew I wouldn’t make it as an Auror.”

“Not at all,” countered Severus. “And I would simply ask that you don’t resign just yet – not until you give it more thought and have a new plan in place. And I have ideas where that is concerned – counsel, if you will.” He picked up the kettle and regarded Harry with what could only be a certain… _fondness._. “But first you need to get out of those wet clothes – then tea. _Then_ we must finish the potion.” He looked at Harry significantly, but his face softened. Harry looked exhausted. “And after that we shall talk,” he finished. “And perhaps, when the potion is at its next resting stage, we shall have a short nap.”

“Naps are good,” said Harry, covering a yawn. “Especially naps with you.”

“And perhaps you can enlighten me about these birds and just exactly how they were able to communicate with you and make you understand that there were more nests that needed warding.”

Harry simply nodded, looking down into the mug of steaming tea Severus pressed into his hand. He had an odd look on his face, but he didn’t immediately offer an explanation.

And Severus didn’t ask, not immediately. He waited until Harry was dry, dressed in jeans and t-shirt he’d left at Spinner’s End, a warm pair of Severus’ socks on his feet. As Harry sat on a stool, dewinging desicated termites, Severus stood over a steaming pewter cauldron and engaged Harry in conversation. With his hands busy, Harry was more relaxed, more willing to talk.

“I still don’t understand it,” he said. He picked up another termite and de-winged it, then dropped the thorax in one wooden bowl and the wings in another. “The wards were strong, but veiled, if you know what I mean. Carefully placed to protect only this nest site, and not all the others. And when I took them down and got close enough to see the bird inside – well, it seemed so ordinary. Grey and all ruffled up, hovering over the eggs. I just pushed it aside and looked at the eggs. They all looked the same, and felt the same, too. So I picked one up, and then I looked at the mother again. You know – I was going to tell her I was sorry.” He looked up at Severus. “You don’t think that’s silly, then?”

Severus shook his head, looking back down at the potion, checking the boil. “It is a long-standing cultural tradition among many groups to speak to the animals they hunt, to thank them, implore them, even.”

Harry picked up another termite and stared at it whimsically, then looked at Severus again. “Too late to do anything about this one,” he said. He pulled off the wings and let them flutter into the bowl. “But the bird, Severus. She looked right through me. Her eyes were liquid, like the ocean, and soulful. I thought of what you said about the souls of dead sailors, and wondered if fragments of those souls were somehow really trapped in these birds. That would be tragic – wouldn’t it? To have a piece of your soul separated from the rest of you?”

Severus frowned. He looked up at Harry, glad that Harry had no idea just how horrible that possibility really was.

“The bird didn’t speak to me, and it didn’t communicate telepathically. But still – I knew I had to come back and put the wards back to protect it. And when I was finished, its mate had returned, and it flew out of the nest and balanced on my broom for a moment, and took off and I just followed it and we flew along the cliffs for – Merlin, I don’t know – ten minutes? Twenty? And it led me to a nest that was unwarded and left me there. And the bird in that nest looked at me with those same eyes….”

“And so on.” Severus smiled at Harry. “You have an affinity for magical animals, Harry. I suspect you’ve known this for some time.”

“Actually – yes.” Harry frowned at the pile of termites, and Severus knew that he was thinking that it seemed no smaller than when he had begun to work with them. He seemed to catch hold of a stray thought, and grinned over at Severus. “Except for Blast-Ended Skrewts. I never made any headway with them at all.”

“I think you’ll need to introduce me to one of those some day,” Severus said.

Harry shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re suggesting,” he said.

They worked in silence for a while, until Harry looked up, something clearly on his mind.

“Severus - Tonks told me about Sirius. When I went by the Ministry.” He didn't continue, so Severus looked up at him, face carefully masked. Harry smiled thoughtfully. “He’s doing alright. They’re keeping him in a magically induced coma until the potion is ready. Mum and Dad are down there with him now.”

Severus looked back down at the cauldron, eyeing it critically.

“Severus – you knew, didn’t you? You don’t seem surprised – that one of the injured Aurors was Sirius?”

Severus looked up. “I knew,” he said. “Should I have told you?”

“Yes?” Harry shrugged. “No. No, I don’t think so.” He met Severus’ eye. “Maybe?”

“Are you angry with me?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

They stared at each other and the corner of Severus’ mouth twitched up in the not-quite-smile Harry had learned to love.

“Look – I don’t know what you _should_ have done,” Harry said. “But I’m glad you didn’t. Because what I did – deliberately breaking the law – to help those Aurors – but just as much to help you – I can’t claim it was because of Sirius. That would be the easy out, you know. But it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that.”

Severus began stirring the potion counterclockwise with the wooden stir rod.

“One,” said Harry automatically, leaving the matter of Sirius for later. “Two, three….”


	26. You Did it for Me

“I cannot believe you convinced me to race about on a broom with that boisterous group of red-headed menaces,” Severus complained. He was lying flat on his back, sprawled across his bed at Spinner’s End. Beside him, Harry chuckled.

“You made huge points with Dad, for what it’s worth,” he said.

“Your mother laughed at me.”

“She wasn’t the only one,” said Harry, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow. “McGonagall….”

“Minerva McGonagall can laugh at me after _she_ plays a game of pick-up Quidditch – in my presence,” Severus said with a snort. “And as for your father, he has been most cordial to me since I made the potion for the mutt.”

“Don’t call Sirius that,” Harry said, but his admonition was only half-hearted.

“Hmph.” Severus sighed. “I hurt in places I haven’t felt since Hogwarts.”

“Turn over,” said Harry. “I’ll rub your shoulders.”

Severus groaned as he obligingly turned over. Harry straddled him, resting his bum on Severus’ bony rump, and began to work his shoulders.

“Sirius is really looking good,” Harry said as he kneaded Severus’ shoulders. “Can you believe his vision is even better than it was before the accident?”

“Of course I can believe it. I made the potion, didn’t I? Would I have gone to all that trouble had I thought the potion wouldn’t be successful?”

Harry laughed. “You know what I mean. Don’t get all grumpy just because you overdid it today.”

“Overdid it? I might have been fine if you hadn’t forced that enormous piece of cake on me.”

Harry grinned. “Molly thinks you’re too skinny,” he said.

“I can only be grateful these gatherings are only once a year, then,” Severus said. “They _are_ only once a year, are they not? We are not required to attend birthday fêtes for every Weasley, are we?”

“No – one is it. One obligatory event, anyway.” He pressed against Severus’ neck with the palms of his hands, then squeezed his shoulders, massaging the stiff muscles, and changed the subject, lowering his voice. “I told Sirius about my decision to transfer out. He hugged me. Told me he was glad I’d be going to one of their sister agencies – but that it was the right thing to do. He’s been like that since the accident – worried that something horrible will happen to me.”

“Well, you _have_ already been nearly decapitated by a rogue Pygmy Puff,” Severus said, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Harry squeezed harder and Severus groaned. “Fine – fine. I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again!”

“Good thing,” muttered Harry. “I’m going to kill Ron already for suggesting Molly put that stupid thing on my birthday cake.”

“Black was annoyingly non-combative with me,” Severus said, his voice still muffled by his pillow. “I do not know long I can tolerate his good behavior.”

Harry pressed his knuckles down into a knot on Severus’ upper back and began to work it out. “And I don’t know how long he can keep it up,” he said. “I think you’d both be happier if you went back to how things were.”

“He does seem happy that you are leaving,” Severus added as Harry’s clever fingers continued to work out the effects of his unexpected afternoon on the broom. “But he still thinks I have unduly influenced you in some way.”

“Git,” whispered Harry, but he was smiling as he spoke. “Of course you’ve influenced me.”

“Not in the way he believes,” Severus said.

“Not exactly.” Harry continued massaging Severus’s shoulders as he spoke. “But it really doesn’t matter, does it? After Mum and Dad dropped their big news, everyone lost all interest in what I’m up to. I could have told them all I was set to begin a Mastery in Divination under Trelawney and they’d have smiled and asked me what I felt about having a baby brother or sister.”

“I would have to reconsider our relationship should you make such a monstrously misguided decision. The smell of incense would put me off sex altogether.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” said Harry, grinding down a bit on Severus' arse.

“I’m rather looking forward to your having more regular hours at the DMC.”

Harry laughed. “And for some reason, everyone thinks it will be safer, too. Don't they know who's sent out first when there’s a rogue dragon on the loose? The Department of Magical Creatures, that’s who.”

“You won’t be sent out after dragons, Harry,” Severus said. “In fact, I have an idea you’ll be assigned the North Sea detail.”

“I wouldn’t object,” Harry said. “I’ll come in at night and crawl in bed with you and warm my cold toes against your shins.”

“You’ll wear socks to bed and I can think of no reason you would be coming in at night – magical birds are by and large diurnal. They will be inactive after dark, when most of our activity will commence.”

Harry gave Severus’ shoulders a last squeeze, then leaned forward until he was reclining atop Severus, his head buried in Severus’ long neck and his knees pressing into his thighs.

“I’ll get to fly, Severus. Every day or nearly every one. You have the absolute best ideas.”

“It is not a job without danger.”

“I’m not sure I’d want a job with no danger. And really – I think your job trumps any I’ve had in that respect.”

“You do realize that there are perfectly legal ingredients that are difficult to collect, and having a relationship with a man who mounts a broom as you do has certain benefits to me, as well.”

Harry slid off of Severus and Severus turned onto his side to face him. “ _Mounts_ a broom as I do?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh, I know what you mean.” Harry threaded a hand through Severus’ hair and smiled. “And I like this relationship thing.”

Severus leaned forward just enough to graze Harry’s lips with his own, then relaxed into the kiss as Harry pulled him closer.

“I will tell you now that I _am_ too old for you,” Severus said as he rolled atop Harry and pinned his hands to the bed beside his head. He kissed Harry again. “One pick-up Quidditch game per birthday, I think. And in return, you will accompany me to exotic and desolate locations to collect parasitic plant life from high in the rainforest canopy or scrape fungi from barren cliff walls.”

“I can live with that,” Harry answered, as Severus bent to kiss him again. As Severus pulled away, Harry lifted his head to hold the kiss a moment longer. “But if we disturb a nest of endangered magical rock-boring termites or the breeding grounds of the two-tailed Indonesian muskrat, I may have to kill you.”

“A bit more difficult to live with,” said Severus. “I will have to do my research thoroughly before we set out.”

“You know,” teased Harry, “Hagrid would love to come with us some time.”

Severus gave Harry a very Severus-like glare and squeezed his hands, pushing them down into the mattress as he rolled his hips over Harry’s. “Never, and I repeat _never_ , mention Rubeus Hagrid while we are in bed together.”

“Too many rules,” laughed Harry, pressing his own hips up to rub himself against Severus. “Can’t mention Hagrid, Trelawney, my mum or dad, Sirius….”

Severus silenced him with a kiss, releasing his hands, and a few short minutes later, their trousers were unfastened and cocks pressed together, sliding against each other, in Severus’ warm hand. It was quick and messy, inelegant and a bit primal, and they lay there together afterward, languid and sleepy, and Harry pressed a kiss to Severus’ mouth.

“If I’d steal the egg of a rare magical bird for unnamed Aurors, I don’t even know what I’d do for you,” he breathed into the silence. “Snatch an egg from under a dragon, maybe, or ride a thestral through the skies of London.”

“I’ve heard the goblins keep a dragon in the bowels of Gringotts,” Severus murmured, drawing Harry against him and tucking his head against his shoulder. “You could unchain it and ride it to freedom.”

“Anything,” Harry whispered, “though I can’t guarantee what my penance would be – I might have to quit my job and go work on the dragon preserve in Romania with Charlie.”

“You will not be going to Romania with Charlie Weasley,” Severus stated, kissing Harry a bit more possessively than normal. “I didn’t much like how he rough-housed with you today.”

Harry closed his eyes and settled in against Severus. “You shouldn’t be threatened by Charlie,” he murmured. “Though jealous Severus is kind of sexy.”

“Hmph.”

“Severus?”

“Hmm?”

“Tonks took me aside at the party while Molly had you cornered.”

Severus groaned. “Never again mention Molly Weasley while….”

Harry chuckled. “I know, I know.” He pulled himself even closer to Severus, and spoke low into his ear. “Tonks told me about your payment for the potion. She told me you refused to take the money.”

“Tonks should have kept her mouth shut,” Severus said after a significant pause. “I asked that that information be kept private.”

“You could have used that money to go to Brazil to research that virility draught. You could have finally gathered enough information to publish the results of your fertility study.”

“There are other reasons I did not publish my results.”

“I know,” said Harry. “But….”

“If you must know - and if it will shut you up - I spoke to Hermione at length while you were playing Quidditch - _before_ you coerced me into joining you.” He glared at Harry, and Harry grinned and kissed him, sighing as he relaxed against him again. “We will be meeting on Wednesday to start pursuing the matter further. She has some interesting ideas, and I must admit she has both the passion and the intellectual capacity required for this type of research.”

“That’s great, Severus. You’ll like working with Hermione. She’s – intense.”

“Your recent willingness to take a risk made me re-examine my own reservations about this project, and what publishing the results will mean. I decided that I could at least test my limits – step outside my comfort zone.”

Harry’s arms tightened around him. They lay there, breathing evening out, until Harry spoke again.

“It meant a lot to me, Severus. When Tonks told me. It still does. You didn’t do it for the money.”

“I didn’t do it for Black,” muttered Severus.

“I know, you git,” Harry said. “You did it for me.”

And as Harry fell asleep against Severus, on the warm bed in the upstairs bedroom at Spinner’s End, Severus fingered the silver pendants on the chain Harry always wore, the chain that had tantalized him all those weeks ago in class. A peregrine falcon, the fastest of all the birds and Harry’s Patronus. And beside it, a new charm, the one he’d given Harry the night before for his birthday. A raven.

Someday – perhaps – he might tell Harry that until that morning on that craggy shore on the northeast coast of Scotland, his Patronus had always been a doe. A light-footed, beautiful, graceful doe. A doe even after all the years of not loving Lily Potter, of deliberately not thinking of her as he set himself to his work and chalked up accomplishments.

His new Patronus has affected him deeply, more deeply than Harry could possibly know.

He let the pendants fall back to Harry’s chest then, and wrapped his lover in his arms. He sighed and fell asleep against Harry, leaving worries for another day.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

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